


Element Of The Curse

by 13Kat13



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fantasy, M/M, Slow Burn, but fluff too, just befitting an action fantasy, probably angst, violence isn't too graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-02-03 06:45:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 83,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12743130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13Kat13/pseuds/13Kat13
Summary: “But you, Yuuri, you are something far more special. Wharl whisperers are rare, Victor wasn’t lying when he told you you’re the first known whisperer in a hundred and seventy four years.”A fantasy story without the dragons but plenty of love and other such magic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit boys I'm back. Apologies Victor and Yuuri don't meet in this chapter, but when they do it'll be spicy and dramatic so hold your tits and stay with me.

Prologue 

  
"Laet..." the voice was a soft brush across the beast's sleeping mind, like fine rain on closed eyelids. "Laet... wake now."

  
A low grumble trembled up through the doko's wide, furred chest as she squinted against the daylight. She rolled onto her stomach. It was an overcast sky, but still a bright canvas of white to her eyes, against which her master was painted.

The tilt of his head was gentle against the harsh hunch of his back. Layers of cloth swaddled his rounded shoulders, between which his kind, wizened face sat inclined towards her. But even in her earliest moments of consciousness she saw it. There, somewhere between the dark streaks that ran through the blue of his irises, was the tide. It pulled her up onto her paws. The pronounced arch of her knuckles bent back as she slid her front legs out before her, claws splayed as she stretched. The mud was cooling on her pads as it smeared up through the grass.

Her master had turned from her to look down the hill. She followed his eye-line as she straightened, her great owl head swivelling slowly towards the many pillars of chimney smoke.

  
Laet was no longer unsettled by waking where she did not fall asleep. She knew more now, a deep well of knowledge, something beyond her usual primal awareness having opened inside her. It was like finding a line of ore running through a rock; cracking away the crust of her instinct to discover a rich thread that has always been there, buried deep.

"So clever," her master muttered beside her, and her reptilian eyes flicked towards him. "But so very small minded."

There was a slight smile on the crinkle of his lips, maybe even wonder in his eyes as he stared down at the vast city before them.

"Clever?" Laet hissed, the clack of her beak tight around the word. Her sharp gaze flicked to the rooftops of the city; catching the swoop of a swallow as it flitted under a wooden beam far below. "They let their children play in the streets after bigger heat has sunk."

Her master chuckled beside her and her eyes were drawn back to him, always back to him.

"Children should feel safe to play in the night, Laet," his tone was patient, his profile pensive as he watched the churn of the city. "After all, everything came from the darkness... and will return to it."

The world breath ruffled the feathers of Laet's head, sifting through them, down over her spine to her colossal wings, folded against her sides where the feathers faded to the fur of her belly. Her master's voice was a lulling hymn beside her, but she was alert to his every word.

"How far they've come since their mud huts," he said, and his gnarled hands twisted in the folds of fabric swaddling his chest. "When the darkness lapped at the edges of their doors and windows. Relentless it was. No children out after sunset then, Laet. Now look what they've made, this heaving beast of industry. Yet this city is built not for purpose, but as a testament to their bravery."

Laet watched her master settle into a crouch. He shook his hands free of his sleeves, before he wove his fingers into the grass.

"Let me go to them," she whispered, her gaze fierce as she looked down at him, at his papery eyelids sliding closed over those blue eyes.

"Not yet, my little doko," he sighed, an easy smile on his lips. "The darkness will return in its own time. And when I do, I shall deliver them all into glory."

 

Chapter One 

 

The end of summer put a chill in the air, but the clatter of horses, people, and the occasional laugh still flickered defiantly up into the night. Street lamps imprinted with the city of Lillenwyn’s banner stood sentry, briefly giving shadow twins to those who wandered through their light pools. It was still bright enough to see a bat, its wings flapping against the clotting, sooty air of the city, an erratic little blot against the deep blue of the horizon. The bat dipped and dived along a skyline studded with cranes, their joints bent like elbows, as though ready to hoist the weight of large coal dusted creatures out of the earth.

On a leafy street, unaffected by the smog of the city, Victor Nikiforov was tucked into the back of a horse drawn carriage. Despite the luxurious size of the cabin, Victor had folded himself into its back corner, his slim left hand resting on the door handle. He was watching the city of Lillenwyn pass by through half lidded eyes, letting the evening air rush through the open window and run its fingers through his impossibly fair hair. Opposite him sat the owner of the carriage. Arenhalia Harding was more than happy to lean into the excess space between the two of them. With her layered skirts and powdery scent, the politician’s daughter filled her side of the cabin with an endless chatter, which Victor wasn’t sure was even directed at him anymore. Since the moment she collected him, outside a hotel on Reap Avenue, Arenhalia had managed to touch on every subject from hair ribbons to where was best to stand at a party. Until Victor realised his input was not a necessity and stopped listening.

One thing that Victor had picked up on, and was determined to stay wary of, was how pleased Arenhalia looked with herself. Her usually dissatisfied expression, which he’d noticed from their few encounters, had been replaced with smiles and even the occasional giggle. If she hadn’t been the Chairman of the Keys daughter, Victor reminded himself, then he never would have had to take her up on this invitation. But as it was, he took a slightly cruel pleasure in remaining infuriatingly polite, but not overly friendly towards his companion for the evening.

The crackle of wheels over pebbles lead Victor back from where he’d buried himself in a daydream, and he blinked through the window at the Lakeseed’s driveway. It was every bit as ostentatious as he’d imagined. Their carriage had joined a queue making its way up the wide, tree-lined boulevard to the manor house. The size of the front lawn alone was enough to state the wealth of its owners, it being in the crowded city centre, never mind the house that sat atop it. The windows of all four stories of the Lakeseed’s manor were illuminated, calling its chattering, fawning guests into the folds of its spectacularly intricate façade like bees to honey. It lead them out of their individual carriages and out onto the grand porch, to twist between its pillars. The light caught on the sprinkling of jewels through ladies’ hair, throwing itself off the military medals of the men. It was all too much, making Victor’s stomach lurch with disgust at the outward display of wealth.

Unprepared to wait for a valet, Victor disembarked as soon as the horses slowed enough, hopping out with a crunch onto the pebbled drive.

“Arenhalia?” Victor offered his hand back to the politician’s daughter, who had fallen silent for a moment as she watched her tall companion straighten himself and his midnight blue suit out.

She accepted his hand, and climbed down in an elegant tumble of silk and lace.

“It would have been preferable to arrive on the steps rather than the flowerbed,” Arenhalia commented as she flicked her dark ringlets out of her face, and took in the immaculate rose bush they were standing next to. “But at least we don’t have to queue.” She proceeded to draw Victor up towards the other guests ascending a limestone staircase into the entrance hall.

“So about that grant your father is giving to the university,” Victor started, after a suitable amount of pebble crunching had passed in silence whilst Arenhalia evaluated the manor with pursed lips. Despite finding her mildly annoying, Victor still felt a guilty clench in his stomach at the distasteful task set for him. “Is he firmly set on giving it to the engineering departm—?”

But just at that moment Victor’s attention snagged on a scent, or more broadly, a sense. He cast his gaze back to the street behind them, his sharp jawline tightening as he breathed in the night air, trying to get a read on what he’d just felt. Arenhalia wasn’t listening anyway, having spotted someone of interest and dragging Victor in their direction, unaware of how stiff her companion’s arm had gone in her grasp.

“General Darthur,” Arenhalia trilled to a balding man with a large moustache, who was escorting a much younger woman up the steps to their right. “How lovely that you are here too, are you well?” Arenhalia fluttered her fan towards the general, already the perfect politician.

Victor’s eyes flicked over the street far behind them, jumping from shadow to shadow, his attention skipping over the herd of arriving guests. Arenhalia gave a sharp tug on his elbow, forcing him to reluctantly turn back to the couple he’d been presented to.

The red faced General beamed at Arenhalia, guiding the beautiful woman who accompanied him to face them. She looked no older than Victor himself at nineteen, and seemed about as pleased to be there as he was.

“Oh my, little Arenhalia, how you’ve grown!” boomed the General. “I see you’ve been developing nicely over these last few years.”

Victor was paying just enough attention to feel slightly sickened by that last comment. He forced his expression to remain neutral as Arenhalia giggled and held her fan over her mouth.

“Why, you must meet my date.” Arenhalia jabbed Victor forward. “This is Victor Nikiforov.”

Victor gave a small bow, briefly taking in how ridiculous the portly General looked in his uniform, before his eyes darted to the only remaining dark patches around the house that hadn’t been scrubbed by the manor’s lights.

“A pleasure,” Victor said stiffly.

“The same to you,” the General boomed, as though Victor was standing a good fifteen feet away rather than right in front of him. “Are you part of the city’s law enforcement, my boy?”

Victor nodded and murmured affirmation as the General leaned into his personal space.

“What kind?” asked the General, his moustache bristling with the prospect of giving some good, unasked for advice to a younger military member.

“Oh the usual third division, nothing fancy,” Victor lied.

They walked with the General and his date up the rest of the steps, letting the older man waffle on about other young officers that he’d put in a good word for.

They were almost encompassed into the safety of the guests at the door when Victor caught the scent again. He was already letting go of Arenhalia’s arm, half turned away when the girl gave him a prod.

“Victor?”

He paused. The chatter and laughter of the guests, so loud and exaggerated it couldn’t be genuine, was distracting his senses, making it difficult to get a firm read on the signature he’d picked up on. He stood rigid, muscles locked as his concentration was pulled in several directions, not a small amount focused on what Lilia would say if she knew what he was considering doing. They needed this acquaintance to work. But then…

Victor waited until the General had gone ahead of them into the entrance hall, his booming bluster now directed at a butler with a carefully neutral expression. Then he turned to take Arenhalia’s hand and lightly press it to his lips.

“I’m so sorry, Arenhalia, but I’m going to have to bid you farewell.” He stepped away from her, and made as to bow, but her voice stopped him.

“Go?” Arenhalia’s shrillness pierced the illusion of civility hanging around the party, her hand still hovering in mid air where Victor had released it.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Victor said, his eyes hidden by his silver as he leant to bow. “I wouldn’t do so if it weren’t of the utmost importance. As it is, I can only offer my deepest apologies.” He straightened, face courteous but coolly expressionless, before turning on his heel and gliding swiftly back down the steps.

“Victor? Victor, this is really not acceptable.” Arenhalia’s volume grew steadily as he continued to ignore her. “Victor, you will return at once. Victor!” Arenhalia’s squawk of outrage followed him as he left the glow of the party.

The noise of the guests dimmed behind him as he worked his way back down the drive, the moist darkness of the lawn and its plants engulfing him for a while before he plunged out onto the bright street. He tried to focus on the good fortune of Arenhalia not following him, rather than the revenge she would take out on their funding, as his pace quickened.

The residential buildings of Lillenwyn’s richest borough soon fell away, and Victor found himself amongst shops closed for the night. The luxury furniture stores and high-end tailors that he passed clung on for as long as they could, before they too gave way to smaller shops, with more ambiguous trade. The gloom of their windows leered apathetically at the figure that glided past. Stalls covered in sheets loomed from the mist before disappearing back into it. Alleys and streets snaked away to either side of Victor’s chosen path, some noisy with alehouses, others groggily quiet under their fog blanket. The further he went the less effort the city made to hold its mask of prosperity in place, eventually discarding it with a limp wrist to reveal a face of shabby, stitched together houses. The smell of the river was stronger down here, and the toll of a lone ship bell sounded somewhere in the distance. After a while of walking in this poorer quarter, a girl launched herself from an alley at Victor.

“You look lonely, sir,” she said in a voice so pitiful and weak that she elicited nothing more than sympathy. “Let me look after you, sir.” Her young, thin face was painted garishly, and Victor felt a pang.

“Return indoors,” he said very softly. “It is not safe out tonight,” and he caught her gaze in his. The girl’s breath caught, and she nodded her head without really knowing she did so, her jaw slightly slack as she drifted away from him.

Victor continued on his way, removing his hand from where it had flown instinctively to the sword handle at his hip. The girl hadn’t noticed, probably half drugged on saint’s milk, but he checked himself to not let his suspicions make him carelessly abrupt.

A few streets later and Victor emerged into a courtyard. He paused, moonlight glancing off his silver hair as he tilted his head, trying to catch the scent on the air.

The square was very quiet, edged by shops, many of which looked abandoned. The low quality stone pillars that encircled the courtyard had been bashed enough to resemble cylinders rather than their original square shape. But they still stretched their arches up to link together, creating a shaded perimeter in front of the shops they stood before. They seemed to press in around him, like he was a thing of interest in their otherwise bleak evening. The little shrubs pushing themselves up through the cobbles fluttered slightly in the wind.

Victor tried to get a taste for the silence. To edge his suspicions into a relief that he could get a handle on.

There was a child’s shoe, turned on its side by one of the pillars. Victor crossed to it and scooped it up. He turned it over in his hands, inspecting the dirty and scuffed leather, probably belonging to a street urchin, or maybe forgotten in the wake of a family’s passing. Very calmly he turned towards the opposite row of shops, where the moon missed the shadows clogged under the archways there. The wind rustled, but nothing else moved.

Taking slow and measured steps, Victor walked half the distance of the courtyard, straining to see something under the approaching balconies, and reaching up to the scabbard at his hip. Something clicked in the darkness that clung to North East corner of the square. Almost like stone striking stone. Or teeth.

Victor stopped and raised an eyebrow, lowering his head. Despite the slight satisfaction he felt in that moment, his lips were pressed into a thin line. Because isn’t this unusual, Victor thought to himself.

The sword slid gracefully out of its scabbard, turning the moonlight to its advantage as its runes hummed with their own quiet light.

For a while nothing happened. The wind laughed through the gaps in the buildings. And then a cloud passed over the moon.

Victor threw himself to the ground, just as a blur of fur and claws sailed over his head, swiping at where his throat had just been. The shoe clattered onto the cobbles as he rolled to the side and rounded to face his attacker. The creature had recovered from its leap and was now circling him, bunched, sinuous muscles carrying it in a low crouch. Somewhat resembling a panther, but more similar to the size of a bear, the crayn beast was a mass of knotted muscles, and dark, sleek fur.

Victor straightened himself. He was remarkably composed; his face a pale mask of calm, his sword lowered to his side as he and the beast circled each other. The crayn’s edges seemed to jump with shadows, as though a dark mist clung to it, and a low growling, which filtered into a chuckle rumbled from its chest. It was the almost human nature of the thing that made Victor’s skin crawl, although by the bored expression on his face he could’ve just stumbled upon an alley cat.

A child started to cry in the doorway the beast had leapt from, and there was another surprise. He hadn’t factored in a survivor. Victor stopped circling so his body was between the crayn and the source of the noise.

The thing leapt again, and this time Victor jumped impossibly high, before landing in a crouch. But the crayn knew his speed now, and matched it by swerving back round, claws reaching. Victor dodged backwards out of range, bringing his sword up to meet the wrist of the crayn instead. It howled, a terrible sound not meant for this world, and a hunk of meat from its wrist flopped to the ground with a wet slap. Victor’s sword had severed a tendon, and he was aware of how the blade’s runes hummed with renewed energy.

The crayn was making a snarling, spitting noise, limping as it circled, wary of making another dive. Then rather than making another pounce at Victor, it turned back towards the direction of the crying.

Its leap carried it clean under the archway, and it snatched the child into the light. Victor jumped the nine feet onto the balcony above.

‘No this is wrong’, he thought, attack and defense maneuvers streaking past his mind’s eye as he watched the crayn’s restraint in keeping the child alive. For the moment, Victor found himself instinctively keeping his distance, as though the crayn was impossibly, knowingly, holding the child as a bargaining chip. He saw with horror that the boy could only have been about six, tears having run little tracks down his dirty face and his body rigid with shock. The crayn carried the child in his mouth by the scruff of the collar as it backed away, the boy’s feet dragging along the floor, one of them missing a shoe.

Leaping down from his perch, Victor drew a chain from his pocket, the little talismans glinting in the light. Upon seeing the necklace, the crayn dropped the child onto the floor, raising a paw so that its claws rested over the boy’s throat. It fixed a pair of molten gold eyes on its approaching attacker, the human likeness in its face twitching with some kind of knowing, the raw manifestations of the beast indecipherable to man.

Then something happened that made the skin on Victor’s scalp slither.

It spoke.

“Transkaroth... Uot karn mayarneth.” The rumbling voice had a chuckle in it and the lip curled into a sneer.

Victor straightened, considering the words.

“Perhaps,” he said in the same tongue as the beast, his icy blue eyes holding the yellow gaze of the crayn. “But you will make the nicest of fur rugs.”

The crayn sneered, and then laughed, a laugh that seemed to echo in Victor’s chest. Then, quite without warning, the animal ducked its jaws towards the head of the child. Victor darted forwards, hurling his chain through the air at the beast, attempting to match its speed. But at the last second, the crayn pulled to the side, leaving the child unharmed and the chain to skitter across the cobblestones. Victor landed next to the boy who had gone completely silent in shock, but had no time to gather himself before the crayn swiped a massive paw towards his head, cuffing him on the ear but missing his throat with its claws. The blow knocked him backwards, sprawling him on his back.

A shadow fell over Victor, and he had a moment’s glance at the dark purple tongue lolling out between flesh tearing teeth, could smell the thing’s putrid breath, felt a flash of fear, before he bought his sword up and through the side of the thing’s throat. It was with a particularly hard yank, powered mainly by annoyance at himself, that Victor managed to use the leverage of the sword to yank himself from beneath the crayn. It stumbled away as he straightened, and the blade followed Victor’s path as he yanked it free. The blood was very dark on the paving stones.

Victor watched the crayn gurgle and choke for a moment as it stood frozen in shock, then he turned and walked past the boy, who was now sitting up with wide tear filled eyes, to collect the abandoned gold chain. When he turned back the crayn was making a swaying retreat, leaving splashes of black blood from a wound too deep for its supernaturally quick healing.

Ears still ringing from the blow he’d received, Victor threw the chain at the animal as it backed away. There was a screech, and the crayn cowered, batting at its face. A slight hiss sizzled the air, and coils of smoke curled from the little talismans that bore their way into the crayn’s face. Its back bunched and its shoulders writhed with the desperate swipes to dislodge the chain, before the beast twisted itself to make a last leap for freedom. Before it could do so, Victor took a running jump and bought his sword straight down into the back of its neck. Blood splattered forth, oily black and possessing a strange movement. The crayn abruptly slumped to the floor, its spine severed. A great breath escaped from the huge body.

Victor stayed where he was for a while, breathing shallow, still grasping the sword as though the skewered carcass might jump back to life. Then he withdrew, righting himself and drawing a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe blood from his blade. He stooped to collect the chain, which had fallen from the crayn’s face when it died, and now lay covered in its blood and hot to the touch. Victor gave the talismans a wipe down before letting the chain slither back into his pocket.

The boy hadn’t moved at all. His knuckles were white where he gripped his shins, and his shoulders shook with shocked sobs. It was the only noise in the again calm courtyard.

Victor drew a few runes on the beast’s body in a paste from his pocket, muttering words under his breath as he did, and the flesh beneath the paste started to crack. Victor watched the remains of the crayn give way to the decaying runes, crumbling to dust, before he crossed to the boy and scooped him off the floor.

The six year old let himself be placed back on his feet, staring up at the man who’d just saved him, and numbly accepting the lost shoe that was returned to him. The boy gazed into the cold face above him, little chest rising and falling jaggedly as he clutched his shoe to it. Then the boy was alone, as his protector turned and left the square.

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later, and Victor was to be found stirring pain numbing herbs into a cup of tea in the kitchen of Number 13 Illwitch Street. He tapped the spoon on the lip of the cup, metal wringing against porcelain, before resting it on the saucer. The heady scent of the herbs engulfed him as he listened to the approach of Lilia’s thundering footfalls. He folded himself into one of the armchairs next to the fireplace, and fixed his eyes on the door.

Lilia burst in a moment later, her slim reading glasses pushed into the dark whisps of hair that had somewhat gotten away from their bun. She was a striking woman, even in middle age, and in this moment held that graceful outrage usually reserved for mothers when a their well placed plans go awry. Lilia bought this presence into the circle of the firelight like the tumble of a rockslide, letting Victor feel its full force as a breathless Yakov followed her in, catching Victor’s eye with and returning it with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Victor Anatoly Nikiforov,” she boomed, her eyes flashing, “you answer me right now as to why I had a visit from the chairman of the keys’ courier. How can I possibly have received a very angry letter stating that Arenhalia Harding was left to look like a fool on the steps of that very important party, when I specifically, I _specifically_ ,” Lilia emphasized with a finger, “told you that we needed her father’s approval for funding?”

“Lilia. Would you like a cup of tea?” Victor indicated the kettle he’d hung over the fire.

“Do not,” Lilia thundered, her face darkening further, “think to play coy and innocent with me, boy, I will knock you out cold and not think twice of it.”

Although generally kind and calm, Victor had endured Lilia’s outbursts since they first met when he was six, and had found that although usually well placed they were difficult to stop. When she was in a state such as this, it was hard to associate her with the measured and wise woman that considered people serenely over the top of her spectacles.

“I’m not,” Victor rose to his feet. “I merely wanted to prepare you for what I have to tell you. Now please.” He gestured to the armchair opposite him.

It didn’t work.

“Tell me your excuses now, Victor.” Lilia slapped the wrist of the hand extended to her. “They better be good if they’re going to bankrupt The True.”

Victor considered the firm face that glared at him, and then nodded.

“Very well.” He put his tea on the little table next to his chair and turned back to her. “I encountered a crayn tonight. In the city.”

Lilia was struck dumb. She stared at him, all of the colour falling from her cheeks, her lips slightly parted. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Yakov closing the kitchen door and stepping closer.

“I overcame it, and disposed of it. No one saw other than a child, and I seem to have reached it before it did any damage, in the city at least.”

Lilia was backing herself shakily into the chair Victor had suggested she take, gripping its armrests as she lowered herself into it, her knuckles white. Victor sat down opposite her, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. The light of the fire threw the sharp angles of his face into dramatic relief, making him look somewhat skeletal.

“There’s more, Lilia,” he muttered, “it spoke.”

They sat in silence for a while, the room that was the heartbeat of The True’s headquarters gathering itself around them. The brass pots and pans hung patiently next to the cured meats and dried herbs, the long solid table awaiting a meal that they weren’t in the mood for.

Yakov had drawn a stool up next to them, his balding head bent as he stared down at his hands clasped in his lap.

Eventually Lilia let out a long sigh, and slumped against the back of her chair. “Then it’s true,” she sighed.

“You knew.” Victor voiced this more as a statement than a question, but Lilia nodded.

“I’m sorry,” she said, bringing a hand up to her chest. There was no imploring whine in her voice, only the reluctant truth. “I just knew that if I told you then it would make it real.”

She looked up at him, and saw that he had already accepted her decision without needing the provided explanation. He watched her with calm blue eyes, waiting. The fire crackled in the silence, hopping from log to log, unaware of its masters’ distress.

“The visions didn’t come straight away.” Lilia looked into the fire. “It was more of a feeling. That was a few months ago. I tried to ignore it, but it grew worse. And then, two weeks ago, the first one came to me. Cold, dark, terrible, but nothing distinct, more just that I was somewhere where the balance had been overthrown. Somewhere very, very wrong, yet… familiar.” Lilia’s words hung in the silence for a moment, and then Yakov cleared his throat.

“It’s clear that something’s already very wrong, what with a crayn being inside the city limits,” Yakov said in his gruff voice. “But then you say it spoke, Victor? Well, that hasn’t happened in two thousand years.”

Victor nodded slowly. “They poured their power into Graif, and their wits were dulled when he fell. It’s impossible, but this one had intelligence, and it was unexpectedly strong.” Victor grimaced and touched his fingertips to the growing bump on the side of his head. “It caught me quite off guard.”

“You’re sure it spoke, Victor? Didn’t just growl or something?” Yakov asked, half hopeful.

“If Victor said it spoke, then it spoke,” Lilia half snapped, but she sounded more resigned than anything. “He speaks Dunac just as well as we do. What did it say?”

Victor sat back in his chair with an irritated sigh.

“Called me a fool. Then said where it fell many shall rise, which is rubbish of course, the crayn are few and spread out in the wild places.”

They listened to the windows rattle in their frames against the strong autumn wind. Victor stared at the slate tiles in front of the fire, knowing what Lilia would eventually conclude.

“I must consult the garn,” she murmured, confirming his suspicions. He didn’t look up.

Yakov harrumphed. “You dance with madness when you do that. One day you’ll slip right into it, and not even Victor will be able to rescue you from that.”

Lilia smiled at Victor when he looked up at her. “Although I have no doubt he’d try.”

She rose to her feet while he stayed seated, Victor knowing she had made up her mind.

“Yakov, I’ll need you to watch the entrances to the house. Victor, you—”

“I know,” he cut her off, also rising. “I’ll stand and watch over you.”

She took his hand and squeezed it, smiling up at him. For a moment Victor saw the fear dance in her eyes, but then it was gone, replaced by the usual steel.

“Good, for I’ll barely be tied to this world, let alone able to defend myself from it.” She released his hand and turned to the door, inclining her head back towards them slightly. “Come now both of you. There’s no point dancing around the inevitable.”

And they followed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this as a regular fantasy story before I made it victuuri, so if I ever use female pronouns for Yuuri just ignore it.  
> Big love to everyone who commented, left kudos and bookmarked! You're much loved and appreciated.

Hours earlier and miles away on the outskirts of the city, the morning light glowed off the raven hair of an awakening boy. Yuuri was uncurling himself from the tight ball he always slept in, stretching himself out until his muscles pulled taut before relaxing into a cooling tingle. Blearily he looked up at the rafters above him, the dust motes teasing each other in the rays of honey light.

The street outside was already awake, and although not as busy as the centre of Lillenwyn, the shouts, clatter of horseshoes, and the bustle of market reached through the cracked stained glass windows.

Yuuri breathed in deeply, enjoying the dusty smell of the abandoned church as much as ever, and relishing his warmth. He’d pulled off a rather fabulous feat of thievery in getting the thick bedding, it being so bulky and his escape route a very narrow roof ledge. Although not the most profitable of his endeavours, the duvet gave him a deep cocoon of safety against the inevitable sickness, which was already jabbing its way into his community with the change of season. Yuuri slept on a mezzanine floor above the altar of the church, overlooking the long aisle and disused pews. Being up near the rafters pleased him. It was akin to that unidentifiable pleasure he remembered from sitting on a kitchen counter rather than on a chair.

He yawned wide, and the pulsing pressure in his head responded. Yuuri pressed his fingertips to his temple. The swollen vigor of the headache had been getting worse, and it worried him, not least because he seemed to be able to make it go away with willpower alone. Just days ago he had fallen over, but not in pain, in fact he’d been trying to put an end to that. But when he did a warped dizziness had encompassed his vision. When he came to, a pile of books had lain scattered around him. Yuuri had no recollection of how he’d knocked them over.

Yuuri stretched once more, before forcing himself to push the duvet aside. The cold air made him shiver, and he crossed quickly to a little table with a basin and jug on it. With the jerky movements from limbs locked in cold he splashed water from the jug into the basin, droplets painting dark ovals on the blue set of pajamas he wore. Washing and teeth brushing were done as hurriedly as possible, so he could tug on the oversized white linen shirt that lay on a chair nearby. After pulling his close fitting leather trousers on, he bound more leather about his waist in the form of a belt to draw his shirt in. The belt appeared to be like any other figure flattering trinket, but it contained a series of flat compartments, unnoticeable to the unknowing and concealing an array of thin tools; all useful, some deadly.

The little table where Yuuri stood was against the East wall, along which also stood a stolen travelling case containing his clothes. To his right was the banister overlooking the church, and to his left a large round window, which unlike its stained glass siblings, held clear glass and was intact. On either side of the window he’d built himself sturdy bookshelves, to support the volumes that he found or stole. Then there was just the mattress of stitched together prayer cushions and its duvet, with his little box of curiosities next to it, full of interesting things Yuuri found when on jobs. This was the entirety of the dark haired boy’s possessions, and although not much in the eyes of some, compared to his street dwelling colleagues, he was a king.

There was a whistle from downstairs, and Yuuri stepped over to the banister to look over it. A skinny boy with a mop of dark hair stood balanced on one of the wide window ledges, hands pressed against the coloured glass as he grinned through a fragmented section. His own face broke into a grin and he instantly did a sort of complicated swooping action with his hand. Their signal, and one they’d been making at each other long enough that his wrist flowed into it unconsciously.

Yuuri launched himself over the banister, landing on a rafter a few feet below, before scooping up the rope tied around it and swinging down it to the floor. Crossing to the door, Yuuri pushed back two big locks before popping open the padlock on a chain slung round the handles. The boy was standing on the other side of the door when he opened it.

“Gods you’re paranoid,” he said, bumping Yuuri’s shoulder with his fist as he stepped inside.

“You’re an idiot, but you don’t see me whining,” Yuuri bumped him back, smiling. “Morning, Phichit.”

Phichit gave a melodramatic bow, taking his hand and kissing it.

“Good morning, m’lord.”

Yuuri swatted him away, but was still grinning.

“What are you doing here? It’s still light out,” he asked, sliding the two locks back into place but not bothering with the chain.

“Well it’s nice to see you too, Yuuri. ‘What have you been up to, Phichit?’ Oh nothing much, keeping myself busy, and you, oh gentleman of manners and etiquette? ‘Just dreaming of you, you handsome –’”

Yuuri hit him with a prayer cushion, cutting him off mid sentence. He rolled his eyes at Phichit’s grin and set off back towards the altar. Phichit hurried to catch up.

“But seriously, old chummy pal of mine, I’m here because the kids on Endria Street asked for you. I think they’re getting low on supplies and could do with a job. Looking a bit thin of late.”

Yuuri rounded the altar and knelt to dig through a sack stashed there.

“When are they not looking thin?” he sighed.

He emerged with a loaf of bread and a stoppered jug of water a moment later.

“Jeez where’d you get a fresh loaf from?” Phichit crossed to him quickly, taking the loaf from Yuuri to sniff it.

“I have my ways,” Yuuri said, snatching it back.

He broke it into quarters and handed Phichit one, ignoring his surprise.

“Yuuri –”

“Shut up and eat.”

They settled themselves on the steps of the altar, Phichit eventually stopping his chewing long enough to tease the laughter out of him. After all the crimes and what some would call atrocities that they’d manufactured together, it was amazing to Yuuri that Phichit could still set him stumbling down the easy slope of laughter. Maybe it was because he spoke like Yuuri, having grown up not far from where he had and in a similarly sheltered home. Maybe it was that language calling to language, when all the connotations of a well timed comment fell just right, and he could beam at Phichit from across a situation with a shared understanding.

For now though, they’d settled into a comfortable silence, Yuuri watching the coloured light fall through the window onto the floor. Then Phichit spoke up from where he lay reclined.

“I think we should pull the Endria kids in on the job tonight,” he said, munching a hunk of bread thoughtfully.

Yuuri swigged from his clay cup.

“Alright,” he agreed after a moment’s pause. “But only something small. The people that cross the Shaey household have a funny way of disappearing. I want the kids as uninvolved as possible… whilst still being able to give them a fair cut.”

Phichit nodded. “Lookouts and diversion?”

“Lookouts yes, diversion no.” Yuuri collected their cups and the bottle, wrapping the remainder of the bread back into its brown paper. “I don’t want them seen at all.”

“Right,” said Phichit standing up. “There’s a guard on the second floor that could do with being distracted, but I see your point. We’ll have one of them watch his movements instead. Carna would be a good pick, he doesn’t miss anything and can be a quiet little thing.”

Yuuri nodded as he washed the cups in a metal bowl by the altar.

“I’ll go tell them the plan, see if they can think of any other ways they can be useful. If not we’ll just give Carna a share big enough to go around.” He started off towards the door. “See you tonight.”

Yuuri gave him a distracted wave, already focused on tonight’s job, going over the plan in his head. The Shaey household was as rich as it was rotten. Rumours festered around their glossy façade; links to human trafficking rings that were as strong as the political circles that ignored them. He loathed the slimy smile that the periodicals sketched on the entrepreneurial, and psychotic, man of the house, Wemeth Shaey. All bullies are cowards. But Yuuri recognised the special kind of cowardice that hides behind money as it picked on the weak.

 

* * *

 

 

Hours later and Yuuri stepped out into the crisp night air. The streets were deserted, the glint of a fox’s eye the only sign of life in the early hours of the morning. He turned and locked the door behind him, then tucked the key down the front of his shirt, where it hung on a long chain. He slipped into the shadows next to the church and pulled up a balaclava over the bottom half of his face, tugging a hood up over his hair. Once he’d buttoned the front of his jacket up over his white shirt, he was barely distinguishable from the shadows.

Yuuri set as fast a pace as possible whilst keeping his footfalls silent. The buildings in this area of the city sagged into each other, as though huddled against the wind, many of them sporting boarded up windows like blind eyes. It was easy for a street boy of twenty to slip unseen between them.

But after stealing through the shadows for an hour, the houses gradually straightened, getting larger the further he went. The cobbles cleared of litter, and leafy silver birch trees were dotted in uniform intervals along the streets. The street lamps became more regular, purging the darkness more effectively, so when Yuuri eventually came to the mouth of an alley, he was grateful to slip into its gloom. Running its length, Yuuri spotted a hunched figure at the other end of the alley. Quiet as he could, Yuuri crept up behind the lookout.

“I could have slit your throat by now,” he murmured into Phichit’s ear, crouching down next to him and pulling his balaclava down.

“Nah,” Phichit said, not even turning to look at him. “I knew you were there.”

Yuuri made a small sound of disbelief under his breath, but Phichit shushed him. A moment later, a man walked past them.

“He may dress plain but that’s one of their guards,” Phichit muttered. He was staring across at a large white house.

The grand manor was silent and dark, all the lights extinguished behind the wide sash windows. One of the columns on the grand front porch proclaimed it to be  _ Number 26, Darkdwel Lane. _ Yuuri felt his heart pounding with adrenaline in his chest, and smiled.

“Where is Carna positioned?” he asked.

“On the roof above us,” Phichit whispered back. “And Molin is over the other side to the left, and Tresh to the right, so we’ve got it covered from three sides. They know the guards circuit, and will make a short sharp ring on their bell if a guard breaks his routine.”

“A bell?” Yuuri said, displeased. “Not the subtlest thing.”

“No but we won’t be able to move anyway if a guard is out of sync, and they won’t be able to see the kids from where they are on the roofs,” Phichit countered. “We need the guards to stick to their routine.”

“Okay,” Yuuri replied, and before Phichit could say anything, he stole across the street, crouched low and pulling his balaclava back up as he did so. He dove into the bushes in front of the Shaey house just as a guard rounded the corner.

Yuuri looked back at Phichit from between the foliage. His expression was one of shock, as though he hadn’t quite grasped what had happened yet. Then it dissolved into one of annoyance, and he gesticulated angrily at Yuuri. Yuuri smirked and shrugged back at him innocently, and then drew further back into the shadows the hedges provided as the guard passed him. The guard turned the corner, and Phichit ran across the street to crouch next to him.

“You arse,” he hissed, his voice muffled by his balaclava.

Yuuri just grinned and turned to run along the gap between the hedge and the outside wall of the house. Reaching its edge, the black clad pair rounded the corner in a side alley and came face to face with black metal bars. Yuuri’s fingers were tingling as he reached up and wrapped them around the bars of the gate. He placed a foot on the crossbar and hoisted himself up, before reaching back to grip a drainpipe clinging to the white paintwork. His feet joined it as he placed them firmly on the wall and began to climb.

By the time he came level with the second story balcony that the pipe ran up the side of, Yuuri’s arms were shaking. He threw an arm out and caught the limestone of the balcony’s banister, pulling himself close enough to place his feet one at a time between the pillars. He rolled himself over the banister and landed in a crouch on the balcony floor.

Below him, a shadow loomed suddenly around the corner from the street. Yuuri sank back, his spine meeting sharply with the glass of the balcony’s door. The same guard that had passed Yuuri moments before came into view. Yuuri peeked over the edge of the balcony at where he knew Phichit was hidden, but he was well concealed amongst the shrubs. The guard stood listening for a moment that seemed to last forever, making Yuuri dizzy with nerves. The guard finally turned and retreated back the way he had come, and Yuuri let his head fall back against the glass in relief. Phichit emerged a moment later, pulling himself up onto the balcony banister. His movements were lithe and silent, and Yuuri couldn’t help let his cheek jump into a lopsided smile at the easy way he pulled himself onto the banister.

Phichit nodded to him, and Yuuri turned to the balcony doors. He peered through their windows into the dark room beyond. Nothing stirred, so he drew his lock pick from his belt and slipped it into the keyhole. His eyes were closed as he felt for the catch, listening to the scrapes of the lock. After a moment there was a click and the door drifted open. Yuuri stole in ahead of Phichit, who pulled the door gently closed as he followed.

They were in what looked like a guest room. It was perfectly neat, the white bedding smooth and thick with a throw over the foot of the bed, and it held no personal touches of a bedroom in constant use, just decorative crystal ornaments on the mahogany dressing table, reflected back through its mirror.

“Told you no one used this room,” Phichit whispered. Yuuri shushed him and crossed silent as a shadow to the door.

Peering through the keyhole, Yuuri checked the corridor beyond. It was unlit, although the light of the full moon illuminated the way well enough, turning everything to shades of grey. Doors to what must be bedrooms or bathrooms lined the corridor, and there was a decorative table with a vase of flowers sat under a window at the far end, a long rug running the length of the corridor, which would help to muffle their footfalls. He could feel Phichit’s coiled energy next to him, his breathing shallow and his hand hovering over the leather sap hanging from his belt. Phichit wouldn’t use the iron filled bag, not unless he had to, but his hand twitched more readily to it since the last time he’d had to use it, and Yuuri knew he was the reason he always carried it with him now.

Very slowly, Yuuri turned the door handle, ready to stop at the first sound of a squeaking. But the handle turned smoothly, and he and Phichit passed up the silent corridor undetected, taking a right turn at the end. A short flight of stairs lead onto more bedrooms ahead, but the wall to their right fell away to a banister, a grander set of stairs leading to the ground floor.

The two dark figures headed for the stairs, staying close to one side as they descended, so as to avoid the creaky centre of the steps. The carved wooden dragons, sat atop the banister posts at the foot of the stairs, were the only witnesses to the hooded pair that slipped past them and down the corridor beyond.

The doors were open on the lower floor, revealing a drawing room, library, and dining hall, all uncomfortably quiet as they waited for their users to return. Great busts and sculptures occasionally loomed out of the shadows at the pair, as they took a left and then a right, the house stretching back much further than would be expected from the street.

Yuuri drank in the surprisingly tasteful décor of the Shaey house, knowing he would never be able to explain the rush of a burglary to anyone but Phichit. Even though he would have preferred making an honest living, Yuuri never felt so alive as he did when on the job; every hair on his body on end and his senses attuned to everything around him. His and Phichit’s jumpy breathing falling into the same steady pattern, to be hyper aware of his movements in the silent house. The calm clarity that came from risk gave him something like peace.

Eventually they came to a door that was closed and stopped in front of it. Yuuri picked its lock easily, and Phichit lit a miniature lantern as he closed the door behind them. But when they descended the stone steps beyond – a sharp change from the luxury and comfort that they’d come from – they found an iron door.

There was no keyhole or handle, just iron studs. Phichit gave it a little push, but looked unsurprised when it didn’t move.

“How are we supposed to pick a lock which has no keyhole?” Phichit whispered.

The door’s heavy presence hummed in the grey of the stone corridor. Yuuri’s face was blank as he placed a hand against the door, closing his eyes as he always did whilst picking locks.

“There’s more than iron and locks holding this door shut,” he murmured.

“What do you mean?” Phichit asked, but he only hushed him, drawing out a piece of chalk from his pocket.

Yuuri sketched a quick rune onto the surface of the door. It was an old trick, one he’d learnt from his mother, and the door shuddered under its power. He stood with his palm flat to the rune, feeling its power. He thought he felt something beyond the rune for a moment, like a brush of ghostly fingers, but the it was so brief he dismissed it. A few metallic thuds later, and Yuuri pushed the door open.

They slipped into the room beyond the door.

They passed through under an arch and stepped onto a stone landing, lit by a single torch in a bracket on the wall next to them. It illuminated an enormous bowl of coals resting at the top of a set of stairs. A runner with a thin line of coal flowing down its centre fed from the bowl and off down the stairs, into the darkness. Yuuri took the torch from its bracket, and held it to the bowl. With a  _ whump _ the coals ignited, the fire spreading down the banister-like contraption as the coals it held took the flame. As the fire ran down the little gully, it split off in different directions, setting fire to other coal pits so gradually the light spread to the entire underground room.

They stood before a cavernous cellar, the curved ceiling feeding into large pillars, all of the same sandy coloured rock. For a moment Yuuri worried that they were going to be suffocated by the smoke, but then he spotted a hole in the ceiling, heavily guarded with an iron grate, drawing the smoke up and out of the room. The firelight bounced off the glass of display cases, sat on their sturdy wooden bases. They contained all manner of strange and beautiful objects, as well as some that appeared to be quite ordinary. The thieves moved amongst them their eyes dancing with hunger.

“We’ve hit gold,” said Phichit in a low voice.

Yuuri didn’t respond, his eyes drinking in the objects behind the glass. An ivory comb, a jade cup, a gold statue, a mirror, and several pieces of jewellery encrusted with precious stones, they all spoke to him of enough food to ward off hunger for weeks. His heart was thudding in his chest and adrenaline thrummed through his body as he passed between the cabinets, his palms sweaty and alert to the smallest of sounds. He came to a stop before a very normal looking pair of leather gloves. They were completely unremarkable, and yet here they were in their very own case. His fingers itched for them, as he tried to get a read on the energy signature he was sensing from them.

“Here,” said Phichit behind him.

Yuuri turned and saw him leaning to peer into a display case a few rows over from him. Yuuri crossed to him, and saw that the case held an exquisite gold mask. It was made for the most elegant of masked parties. Its asymmetrical design covered only one side of the wearer’s forehead, and then curved down across the eyes, and onto the opposite cheek. Its jewels sparkled in the torchlight.

“I can’t see any pressure plates,” Yuuri said.

“They trust that big door,” Phichit replied, drawing his glass cutting tools from his belt, which was much chunkier than the belt that circled Yuuri’s own waist.

Yuuri frowned, but didn’t voice his doubt.

Phichit held a little ball of sticky, gummy substance on one end of a string to the glass with his forefinger, then took the sharp piece of enchanted quartz on the other end and started to cut a circle. The grating noise made Yuuri wince, and he looked over his shoulder at the iron door. After going round it a few times, Phichit pulled out the circle of glass attached to the gum, his forehead furrowed in concentration. Holding his breath, Phichit reached in and took hold of the mask, lifting it from its stand. Yuuri’s whole face was contorted into a grimace, waiting for the alarm bells to go off. But nothing happened. He released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and looked around them.

Nothing. A whole room full of treasures and not a single pressure plate. Yuuri’s mind turned back to the consciousness he’d sensed in the door, and his stomach turned uncomfortably as he realised what he’d achieved in silencing it. Whatever it was, the Shaey’s trusted its power enough to guard this whole room of unspeakable value.

“Just put it in the bag,” he said, in a voice that sounded like he was trying to hold back throwing up.

Phichit looked up from admiring the mask in his hands, his eyebrows knotting. 

“What’s up? We’ve got it, everything’s fine, Yuuri.”

The concern in his voice was probing, but Yuuri couldn’t explain the dread that he was feeling. It was like he’d let his mind lick something vile and putrid, and it was only just dawning upon him.

He hurried back towards the door, not listening to Phichit’s loud whisperings for him to hold up. It wasn’t until they were safely back out of the house and down the side alley opposite, that he let him catch up.

“Hey. Hey, Yuuri. What was that about, you went a really funny colour.” Phichit was slightly out of breath from trying to catch up with him.

Yuuri placed a hand against a pile of bricks, shaking his head.

“Nothing. I just felt like they’d have more security than that. I didn’t want to be around to find out what it was.”

When he looked up at Phichit, he saw his eyebrows were raised so high they were in danger of joining his hair.

“Well oo-kay, if you say so.”

Yuuri gave his sarcasm a withering look.

“Go on, let’s get up high before they find out what’s missing.”

He didn’t wait for Phichit’s response, swinging himself up onto the brick pile and using the outcroppings of the building’s decorative architecture to scale the wall.

As he and Phichit ran along the rooftops, not far off Victor was reaching the end of his journey to the outskirts of Lillenwyn. He’d spent the night standing guard outside the door to the drawing room of the house on Illwitch Street, gritting his teeth at the moans coming from many unearthly mouths, feeling the darkness that gathered there as the floor shook. When Lilia emerged, looking pale, her hair dishevelled, she’d given him directions, with cryptic words about a place of Gods where no prayers were kept.

 

 

* * *

 

Yuuri was bone tired as he unlocked the door to the church. The adrenaline had worn off, and once inside it was with heavy fumbling that he fastened the padlock into place with a comforting click. He yanked his balaclava down, and with a sigh he lowered his hood, turning to head up to the mezzanine floor. Then he froze.

There was a figure stood by the altar. He was half concealed by shadow, but Yuuri spotted the tall slim shape of his outline. Then he stepped forward between the first two pews, and into a patch of moonlight falling through the stained glass window. The man’s face was still unclear in the gloom, but Yuuri could make out a well-made suit and a sword at his hip. With a flick of his wrist, the candles dotted around the church flickered into life. Yuuri was momentarily distracted by this impossibility, before fastening his eyes back onto the approaching man. Although he could now see the man was around his own age, Yuuri noted his hair was completely silver. His pale face was quite serious, but he held out a hand in greeting, walking forward as though to shake Yuuri’s.

“I am sorry to burst in like this unannounced, but I’m afraid it’s an emergency,” his voice was solemn and quiet, with little inflection. “I am Victor Nikiforov. And I’m going to have to ask you to accompany me to a safer location.”

“Is that so?” Yuuri said, drawing back towards the door slightly.

Victor nodded, as though he was agreeing with him rather than questioning.

“Indeed, and I can assure you that I mean you no harm, Mister—?” He posed the last as a question, but Yuuri was ignoring him, instead looking around him in desperation.

He made a split second decision, grabbed a nearby Bible and flung it at the approaching man. He caught it deftly, but Yuuri was already diving to tackle his waist. The man sidestepped his attack effortlessly, and Yuuri stumbled to catch himself.

“I think you’ve misunderstood my intentions,” the man who called himself Victor was saying as Yuuri rounded back to face him, ignoring the concern in his voice.

Yuuri didn’t respond, at least not with words, preferring to draw a thin throwing knife from his belt. He hurled it at him, but Victor angled his body away, and the knife found its home in the great wooden door with a thud. Victor folded his hands behind his back.

“That was most rude,” he commented, but a smile seemed to play at the corners of his mouth.

Yuuri was breathing heavily, partly because it had been a long night, and partly because he had no patience for flesh-peddlers who kidnapped girls and boys off the street. He lunged at Victor again, fists aiming for that smug face. The man evaded Yuuri’s relentless attack with a lazy ease that was maddening.

A fire poker lay discarded on the floor nearby, and Yuuri dove to pick it up. Brandishing it like a sword he descended upon the stranger. There was a clash of metal against metal, as Victor met his blow with his very real sword, which had been unsheathed so fast Yuuri didn’t even see it. Yuuri pushed him back, and saw the amusement dancing in his blue eyes, drawing him into another enraged blow. Victor deflected this too, so Yuuri flew at him with a flurry of strikes.

The church filled with clanging as Victor blocked him easily, looking calm as he walked backwards, one hand behind his back. Yuuri came at him with enough wild fury for both of them, as he pushed him backwards down the aisle like some mad wedding procession.

Very suddenly, Victor twisted and yanked the poker sharply out of Yuuri’s hand. He tossed it to one side and sheathed his sword as though he’d grown suddenly bored of this game. But Yuuri didn’t stop, swinging his fist so hard that when he missed the intended jawbone, he span all the way round to face the other direction, and promptly lost his balance. He fell fast, but just before the back of his head smacked into the stone floor, lean arms caught him, and Yuuri was face to face with the man who called himself Victor. There was a moment’s silence as Yuuri registered what had happened, in which Victor placed him down very gently, looping a gold chain over one of Yuuri’s wrists as he did.

“Are you alright?” Victor had barely got the words out before Yuuri swung at him with his free hand.

He caught the fist in his. “Please desist.”

Yuuri ignored this and proceeded to try and claw his way out of his grip like a feral cat. Victor seemed to loosen his hold on him, but kept his grip on the chain around Yuuri’s wrist, which bit into the skin there.

“Will you just—” Victor started, but Yuuri was starting to really panic now, fighting the urge to scream and instead choosing to grab at a leather sheath on his belt. With his free left hand he wrenched out a slim dagger, accidentally nicking his own ribcage before he plunged the short blade towards Victor.

At this point Victor gave up on all pretence of civility and grabbed the wrist of Yuuri’s dagger hand, twisting it and him so his back was against Victor’s chest and locking him there.

“I’m sorry,” Victor sounded genuinely apologetic, as he squeezed Yuuri’s hand hard enough to make him gasp and drop the dagger.

Their jerks and lunges held no grace or style, the very skilled fighter looking more like he was trying to control a child throwing a temper tantrum, rather than a thief of some prestige. Yuuri screeched in frustration.

“You’re not making this easy.” Victor had barely finished his sentence when Yuuri fell limp in his arms.

“There,” he said, somewhat embarrassed by the means he’d just taken to subdue the strange boy. “I’m sorry I had to man handle you, but—”

Victor stopped mid-sentence. A rumbling sound was starting, low but quiet throughout the church.

 

* * *

 

Victor looked around himself, confused. After a moment, barely perceivable at first but building every second, the furniture started to vibrate. The pews juddered in their rows, the Bibles falling from their seats. A stack of prayer cushions toppled over, and a tall candlestick crashed onto its side, the candles extinguished in a rush of air.

“What…?”

The tremors increased, pews starting to creep their way along the floor, crashes and thuds resounded as the larger pieces of furniture started to topple around the entwined pair.

Victor considered the possibility of an earthquake, knowing that Lillenwyn wasn’t on a fault line. Then he looked at the boy in his arms. He was shaking, his head dropped down between his hunched shoulders.

A bible flew through the air, narrowly missing Victor’s head. Moments later another one caught him in the small of the back. He turned as he heard the whoosh of something large flying through the air towards them. Victor threw himself and the boy to the side, as the great wooden cross from the altar streaked by where his head had just been. It lost air and crashed into the floor, screeching across it. A silver communion plate was next, skimming Victor’s cheek as he twisted his head to avoid it. He stood, hauling the boy up with him. He didn’t fight back, but he’d gone rigid. Unsure of how else to handle the situation, Victor started dragging him towards the door.

There was a grating of wood against stone, and Victor whipped around, expecting to have to dodge something else. But it was a large wardrobe, miraculously pulling itself across the floor towards the door, against which it fell, partially blocking the exit. Soon after the pews started heaving their way over to the door too, piling one on top of the other when they reached it and making the door impassable.

Victor stood dumbfounded, staring at the apparently inanimate objects. Then the boy started to jerk violently in his arms. For a split second Victor thought he was trying to escape again, but his spasms were quickly identifiable as those of a seizure.

With quick and decisive movements, Victor flipped the boy to face him and lay him back down on the floor, releasing his wrist from the chain. The room shook uncontrollably now, and Victor could tell whatever was happening had reached the nearby houses as shouts of panic sounded from outside. Kneeling, he whipped off his jacket to cushion it under the boy’s head, stopping him from smacking it against the stone floor as he convulsed. The pews came crashing down from their makeshift tower. Yuuri’s face was turned away from him, and Victor took it gently in his hands to draw it towards him. He drew back sharply in surprise.

The boy’s wide eyes were completely white. But it was not the regular white of the eye surrounding the now absent iris; it was a white so pure it practically shone. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly as his heels drummed against the floor. His delicate features jarred with the seemingly possessed look on his face.

Suddenly there was a loud crack. The floor of the church had split, long fractures running out from under the boy’s body across the floor. Victor stared; unsure whether his eyes were tricking him, as the floor and the pews around them seemed to contort slightly. The bend was slight enough that he wasn’t sure whether it was real, trying to steady himself against the tremors to get a proper look.

Victor inhaled deeply, and returned his hands to the boy’s cheeks. His forehead was creased with concentration.

“Kwoth nair jahfurlim twen-frock,” he uttered.

The boy’s body immediately relaxed, his eyelids slipping closed over those terrifying eyes. The tremors stilled, a petrified calm settling. The contents of the church lay in shocked disarray, the only noise being the squeak of a large wood and iron candelabrum as it swung from the ceiling on its remaining chain.

Victor took a shaky breath, sitting back on his heels. He pushed a hand through his hair, staring down at the motionless boy. His chest rose and fell with the deep breaths of sleep, face calm and unaware of the surrounding chaos. After a little while, Victor rose and cleared the debris from in front of the door. Then he returned to the unconscious form on the floor and scooped him up into his arms, turning to leave.


	3. Chapter 3

Yuuri was only partly aware that the immensely comfortable bed he was laying in wasn’t his own, and it was a very small, unconcerned part of his awareness. It took a few moments for his brain to catch up to his senses, and when it did, memories from before his blackout unfurled themselves with a lazy stretch across his mind, making him sit bolt upright.

  
He was in a bedroom. Not his bedroom, but a proper one with a four-poster bed and a fancy dressing table. Heavy red velvet curtains hung from the bed canopy, and he sat half wrapped in a thick duvet with a richly woven throw of deep crimsons and blues atop it. The sunlight that bathed a patch of the decorative rug, was chequered with the diamond shaped criss-cross of thin metal inserts, which held the glass in a window positioned on the same wall as the head of his bed. Yuuri twisted himself towards it, and managed to gauge that it was morning, but what time exactly he had no idea.

  
Turning back, Yuuri inspected the rest of the room. It wasn’t overly large so it maintained its comfort, and though its contents weren’t showy, they clearly held value. The mahogany of the bed, wardrobe, and dressing table were enough to confirm a wealthy and old house. He guessed he was in a guest room. The only personal objects were a decorative china vase atop the wardrobe, a brush, and other grooming instruments on the dressing table. He realised with a start that someone had dressed him in a long white nightgown, and felt suddenly very vulnerable, having no recollection of who’d done it.

  
As Yuuri was taking all this in, he suddenly became aware of footsteps approaching the closed door from the other side. He shot out of bed, a tight knot in his stomach as he cast about for something to defend himself with. A slender and severe looking woman bustled in just as Yuuri grabbed a book off the side table and drew his arm back, ready to launch it at his kidnapper. The woman must have been in her early forties, and balanced a tray with toast, a jar of jam, and a pot of tea in one hand. She raised her eyebrows at the book in Yuuri’s hand.   


“Are you going fight me in your nightgown, boy?”  


The question caught Yuuri off guard and he found himself backing away from the bed to flatten himself against the curtain, as the woman passed him to reach the side table. She placed the tray down, very much within Yuuri’s punching range, and then straightened.  


“I expect you’re very confused,” the woman said, her voice brusque and businesslike. “Why don’t you sit back down and we’ll talk. You’re perfectly safe here.”  


Yuuri stayed standing, eyeing the woman as she crossed to the dressing table and settled herself backwards on its stool so as to face Yuuri.  


“My father’s a detective,” Yuuri lied, “you can’t peddle my flesh.”  


The woman raised her eyebrows, but didn’t seem overly offended. Instead she shook her head in disappointment.  


“If that’s why you think you’re here, then clearly I need to talk to Victor about how he introduces himself to young men,” she said, inspecting her nails in a lazy sort of way before smoothing her skirt.  


“Where is here?” Yuuri asked, trying to keep his voice firm as he eyed the door.  


“We’re on Illwitch Street in the Trenin district. It is the house of The True. You met another of our members last night, and I have to say, I admire your fight. I think you gave Victor quite the shock.”

The woman gave him a tight lipped little smirk.  


Yuuri didn’t know how to respond to this, so he moved on.  


“Are you the one that put me in this?” he plucked at the long nightshirt he was wearing.  


“Yes,” the woman replied, apparently unconcerned by his discomfort. “Your shirt was ruined from that cut you gave yourself. I’ve put salve on it.”  


Yuuri’s hand went to the left side of his ribs, straining to remember what had happened after he pulled the knife out. He knew he’d lost control, but the remaining blank spot in his memory unnerved him, so instead he focused on the present and moved onto his next question.  


“What kind of name is The True for a brothel?” Yuuri asked, eyes still darting to the exits. “Who are you?”  


“I am Lilia Baranovskaya, and I manage the order of The True. It is an order dedicated to defending man against the Dunner and other dark magics.” She stated this matter of factly, as though she were describing the responsibilities of a baker. “And it is not a brothel.”  


“I’m sorry?” Yuuri said, distracted by this bizarre statement.  


“Come boy, you can fling pews around like they’re on puppet strings. The fact that there’s more to our world than you know should not come as a surprise.” Lilia folded her hands in her lap, and frowned at Yuuri.  


Yuuri stood there more confused than ever. He didn’t remember anything about pews, but his mind flicked back to the way the candles had lit themselves up, apparently at Victor’s command.  


Slight amusement danced in Lilia’s eyes as she watched Yuuri mulling this over. Then she stood, and Yuuri backed sharply away from her towards the bed.  


“What are you doing?” Yuuri’s voice broke somewhere in the middle of his sentence, but seeing as he’d been kidnapped, he decidedly didn’t care.  


“I’m going to go down to the kitchen. I’m sure you have questions, but it’s easier to show you these things, and Victor has been worrying over you, so I think I’ll go relieve him,” Lilia said, brushing the folds of her skirt out. “There’s fresh clothes in the wardrobe. Choose something to wear then come join us downstairs. You are free to leave at any time, but I suggest you hear an explanation first.”  


Lilia left Yuuri standing rigidly in the middle of the rug, staring at the closed door. He stayed that way for a while, assessing his options. He was unnerved, the possibilities of human trafficking and the bodies occasionally drawn up from the river flicking across his mind. But he hadn’t been invited into an actual house for so long that it made him pause, the smell of the toast and tea hanging temptingly in the air. Anyone who’s lived on the streets knows hunger like an animal living inside you. It is one of the most primal instincts, and eventually it drove Yuuri over to the breakfast laid out. He descended upon it, using a piece of bread to scoop up the jam straight out of the jar. After a moment of being lost in this bliss of stuffing real jam into his mouth, Yuuri felt calm enough to at least want to explore the room he’d ended up in, so wandered over to a door in the wall opposite the bed, curious as to where it led.  


Beyond it lay a bathroom, complete with a shower, which he’d only seen in the absolute richest of houses that he’d robbed. Yuuri crossed to it excitedly, reaching out to turn the brass handles he guessed turned the thing on. He was right, and he snatched his hand back out of the way as a torrent of water fell from the tall showerhead. Stuffing the rest of the toast in his mouth, Yuuri kicked the door closed and pulled his nightgown over his head, the worries he’d had momentarily forgotten as he stepped into the tub. He was aware that he shouldn’t let his guard down yet, but what difference did it make if he took advantage of a proper shower before making what was bound to be a violent escape?  


Gingerly Yuuri put his hands out under the jet. His nose wrinkled and he grinned, the spray like pins and needles but in a pleasant, tickly way.  


A good twenty minutes later, Yuuri was wrapped in a dressing gown, feeling cleaner than he had in years. He sat at the dressing table, surprisingly calm as he worked the brush through his hair. It had been ages since he’d looked in a mirror, and Yuuri studied his face, fascinated. His cheeks were hollow, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He wouldn’t describe what he saw as pretty. His face had too many sharp angles, gaunt from hunger, the large, dark eyes tired.  


Yuuri turned away from himself and crossed to the wardrobe to look inside. His face fell when he saw what adorned the hangers. Rows of very fine suits pressed against each other in an orderly queue. There were silk ones for evening, and cotton ones for daytime, and light pastel coloured ones for summer. He fingered them, his lips puckered to the side. He realised he had no idea where his own clothes were, and longed for his practical trousers and belt with its thin little knives. Then something caught his eye. Hanging at the end of the row was a finely tailored but plain suit. He drew it out, admiring the cut of the coal grey trousers and silhouette of the jacket. Slipping it on, Yuuri left the top couple of buttons of the shirt open rather than donning the provided cravat, showing a thin gold chain laying next to the heavier one holding his key around his neck. He chose to leave the formal looking jacket, going instead for an accompanying set of high black riding boots in the bottom of the wardrobe. Yuuri pulled these over a pair of socks as he hopped over to the door.  


Sticking his head out into the hall, Yuuri saw the corridor beyond the bedroom door was dimly lit with natural light from an unseen window. Entering it, he ran his fingers over the dark wood paneling as he headed for the stairs, centering himself as his lips twisted into an anxious pucker. His footfalls hissed over the rich floor runner in the silence. The staircase was a big, curving monster of a thing, a large window with a coat of arms at its centre illuminating the way.  


He would have to hope that he didn’t run into anyone before he found the front door. Yuuri let the touch of the banister guide him as he started his descent, his eyes on the glass coat of arms above him rather than the stairs, ignoring the busy street beyond it.  


The crest was embossed with a lion and a unicorn, rearing up either side of an open book. Smaller than this central tableau were three symbols; an eye in the upper left hand corner, a candle in the right, and a sort of looping circle at the central bottom point.  


“It’s The True’s crest,” a voice behind Yuuri said.  


Yuuri whirled around, almost losing his balance on the stairs. One moment, the silver-haired figure of Victor had been propped against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, the next moment he was at Yuuri’s side, gripping his elbow to steady him.  


“Are you alright?” he asked, in his calm yet commanding voice.  


Yuuri pulled his elbow out of Victor’s grasp and straightened himself.

“Yes,” he said, raising his chin defiantly.  


Victor drew himself back, smirking. It was more expression than he’d seen him produce so far. There was a beat in which he took in Yuuri’s outfit, before he nodded.  


“Good,” he commented.

 

Yuuri’s brow furrowed in irritation, but Victor had already looked away, back up at the window.  


“The book signifies knowledge,” Victor said, nodding to the crest. “Without which we are all blind and dangerous. The eye, wisdom, as many evil and ambitious men long for power but not for the right reasons. The candle is for the light that blots out the darkness in this world. And the entwined circle for how we are all bound together, we all are one and the same.” Victor turned to Yuuri and gave him a small, distracted smile. Then he turned to descend the stairs. Yuuri wondered if he could knock him out by punching him in the back of the head.  


“Are you coming, Yuuri?” Victor asked, looking back at him from the base of the stairs.  


“How do you know my name?” Yuuri asked, alarmed and annoyed.

“Lilia,” Victor said simply.

But Yuuri could not remember Lilia asking his name.

“Um, no,” Yuuri said, brushing over this as he hurried to descend the rest of the stairs.

He turned to walk backwards down the hallway so as to keep an eye on the amused figure of Victor.

“But you know, thanks for the kidnapping and all,” he said with an air of nonchalance he did not feel.  
“You are of course welcome to leave at any time,” said Victor, his mouth still quirked in that infuriating smirk. “But the exit is actually this way, and I think you’ll be interested in what we have to say.”   
Yuuri aborted the half turn he’d made away from Victor, meeting his smirk with a frown.   
“Sounds great, but no.”

He stalked back past Victor in the other direction.  


“But don’t you want to know where you got it from? Your abilities I mean.”  


Yuuri paused in front of a proud bust of a man with a ridiculously large moustache.  


“What do you know about it? You think just because you can do a silly little trick like lighting a few candles you know about what I can do?”

He stayed turned away from Victor, directing his scowl instead at the moustache wearing a human.  


“Of course not,” Victor snorted behind him. “I just know what you are.”  


Yuuri turned back towards him, observing his perfectly straight posture, the proud tilt of his chin and his hands clasped behind his back. He inclined his head slightly towards Yuuri.  


“I have great respect for wharl whisperers,” Victor said.  


The look on Yuuri’s face was one of perfect amused disbelief, and if it had been directed at anyone less arrogant, they’d have adopted an embarrassed shade of crimson. As it was Victor, he met Yuuri’s raised eyebrows and curled lip with a look of calm seriousness.  


“A wharl whisperer,” Yuuri repeated. “As in the wharl that flows through everything. As in the wharl that only the Gods control and fills Dur’rum in all its heavenly glory.” The amused contempt dripped from his words.  


“Indeed, yes.” Victor approached him, and Yuuri was suddenly on guard, ready to punch him if he tried anything. But Victor merely went to walk past him, pausing briefly to fix Yuuri with a look and to say, “I find it hard to believe your parents didn’t know anything about it.” Then he continued on down the hallway.  


Yuuri let himself be swept up in his wake, the idea of finding an exit forgotten.  


“What do you know of my parents?” Yuuri asked, as they passed a huge oil painting of a ship sailing into harbour.  


“Oh nothing yet, but I suspect they knew something. If you’re a wharl whisperer then you’ve got Dur’rish blood in you. As we all do here,” Victor said with cool indifference, gliding down the corridor, his hands still loosely clasped behind his back. “And if I’m right about you, then you’re the first whisperer in one hundred and seventy four years. Quite a feat, congratulations.”  


Yuuri considered this in silence. If Victor’s words about the wharl didn’t fit into place so well with the energy Yuuri sensed in everything, he’d have turned away and left immediately. But he had the irritating feeling that at least some of what Victor was saying was true.  


He pushed away the thought of his mother’s hair tickling his cheek as they came upon a door. Victor turned its handle and pushed it inwards, revealing a large kitchen, warmly lit by a fire in a great hearth at one end. There was a long wooden table, obviously old and much used, with pots, pans, and dried bunches of herbs hanging above it. Wooden benches ran the length of the table, and the walls were lined with wooden counters with cupboards beneath them, broken in one place by a great oven. There were windows, but they were high up and small, with their curtains drawn, giving the room a cozy glow. The same crest that he’d seen on the window was hung above the mantelpiece, and below it was two plush armchairs angled slightly towards the fire. Lilia was sat in one, picking out the stitching at the waist of a dress with a stitch remover. She looked up as they entered.  


“Yuuri, I’m glad you decided to stay,” she said, without any expression whatsoever. She gestured to the armchair opposite her. “Would you like anything to drink?”  


Yuuri crossed slowly to the armchair, keeping an eye on Victor out of his peripherals, and lowered himself into it, his eyebrows drawn together in uncertainty.  


“No thank you,” he said stiffly.  


“You look better for being in proper clothes,” Lilia said, laying the dress over the arm of the chair she sat in.  


Yuuri crossed his arms over his stomach, the comment putting him back on guard.  


Lilia sat forward, her hands folded on her knees. Yuuri could see Victor settle himself to lean against the end of the table next to them. Yuuri fidgeted nervously, feeling as though he should have left when he had the chance.  


“Before we discuss anything else, I want you to know I meant it when I said you are free to leave,” Lilia said, as though Yuuri had voiced his concern aloud.

Lilia fixed Yuuri with a look so serious that he found with some surprise that he believed her.

“But there’s some things you should know and some concerns that we’d like your help with.”  


“My help?” Yuuri said, incredulous. “How could I possibly help you?”  


Lilia shook her head. “Even if you don’t think you’re of much use, to us you’re worth an army.”  


This silenced Yuuri. He sat, processing it in the quiet that followed. Already he’d heard enough to make his head spin.  


“As I know Victor has already told you, you’re a wharl whisperer.” Lilia continued. “I know this because I’m an echo. I see hints of what is to come, and what has been. The wharl that is contained in things speaks to me of it, and it is easier if I’m familiar with the person or object. Victor here is a blane, whose true power lies in their strength and speed, but they have a few other tricks that I’m sure he’s shown off for you.” Lilia shot Victor an amused look, as though daring him to protest, but he simply continued inspecting his nails, looking bored.  


“But you, Yuuri, you are something far more special. Wharl whisperers are rare, Victor wasn’t lying when he told you you’re the first known whisperer in a hundred and seventy four years. The last lived on an island far to the west.”

She turned and picked up a cup of tea resting on the little table to one side of the chair, pausing to sip it.  


“As you know,” she continued, returning the cup to its saucer. “Only the Gods can step between Dur’rum and our world. They created everything, so the wharl of their plain runs through everything. But wharl whisperers, you are special. You act as gateways to Dur’rum, and the wharl flows through you, giving you power over the things of this world because of the wharl that is in them. Unfortunately, this also makes you somewhat unstable,” Lilia sighed.  


“Without proper training you can lose control of your grasp on the wharl, and it has the ability to consume you and reek havoc if you do not keep it in check.” Lilia gave Yuuri a serious look that actually made him shrink back slightly.  


“Well,” said Yuuri, very calmly in the silence that followed Lilia’s long and unbelievable speech. “That’s, uh… yeah.”

These people were mad. He stood up, turning to the door to find Victor blocking his way.  


“I think you should stay, Yuuri,” he said. “I’m not going to force you to, but from what I saw in the church, you need to harness your abilities. Clearly they are slipping out of your control.”  


Yuuri’s face darkened, his hands curling into fists.  


“Listen here,” he hissed, his voice low. “I only stayed because I thought you might know something about my — it doesn’t matter what I thought, you clearly don’t know. I don’t care if you’re right about my wharl or whatever other lunatic theories you’ve got about the gods. I’m not going to be prisoner to anyone. Now let me pass before I show you just how out of control my abilities can get.” He then turned away from Victor, who was still looking calm and slightly amused, and faced Lilia. “Thank you for the breakfast, I want my clothes back now and I’m going to leave.”  


Lilia was sat with her hands crossed in her lap, looking up at Yuuri with a frown. There was a pause in which Lilia considered the boy above her, then she too rose.  


“Very well. Victor fetch Yuuri’s things.” As Victor left, Lilia turned to Yuuri. “I really would like you to reconsider, but I understand if all this is too much.”  


Yuuri’s annoyance simmered down, and he nodded stiffly, feeling uncomfortable.  
That’s when he felt it. A pulse coming from something close by. Yuuri’s head snapped back to look up at the ceiling, suddenly rigid.   


“What’s in the room above us?” he asked.  


“It’s the artefacts room, why?” Lilia replied.  


Before Lilia could say anything else, Yuuri had turned and darted out of the room. He met Victor in the corridor, already returning with the bundle of his clothes, but carried on straight past him.  


“Hey, I’ve got your stuff,” he said, changing direction to follow Yuuri.  


Yuuri came to the base of the great staircase, and sprang up its steps two at a time. He rounded the banister at the top, and sped down the hallway in the opposite direction to the room in which he’d slept. At the end of the corridor was a large double door, and he paused in front of it, his senses tingling and a hand on the doorknob.  


“What are you doing?” Victor appeared beside him.  


Yuuri shook his head, unable to explain the familiarity of the resonance he was feeling or where he knew it from. He turned the handle, and pushed through the double doors.  


The room beyond was large and round, balconies circling the walls, which were lined with books, the volumes stretching all the way up to the glass dome of a ceiling. Ladders were fastened on wheels to the bookshelves on every level, and the lowest level into which they’d entered held host to glass topped display cases exhibiting various curiosities. But Yuuri ignored these, crossing instead to the centre of the room, where a dark orb stood in a holder.  


The orb was black, marked with curving patterns, runes written along their edges, glowing with a silvery light. Yuuri stood before it. The hum he felt coming off the thing was so strong that he could feel it in his chest.  


“What is it?” he asked Victor, as he came up next to him.  


“We’re not sure,” he shrugged. “Found it when we were uprooting a cult of Dunner priests. Why are you interested in it?”  


Yuuri couldn’t take his eyes of the orb. It spoke to his in a way that was irresistible.  


“You don’t feel that?” he asked, he saw Victor shake his head in the corner of his eye.  


“No, what are you talking about?”  


Yuuri turned to him. “You’re telling me that you don’t feel that… humming?”  


Victor shook his head again. Yuuri turned back to the orb, its markings’ glow brightening and dimming repeatedly.  


“We know it has some sort of power,” Victor said, “but we don’t know where it came from or what it does.”  


Yuuri stood watching its glow cycle in silence, feeling the familiarity of the energy he felt running through it, his mind grasping for where he had felt it before.  


“I… I recognise its… its energy, or whatever it is I feel in things.” He was transfixed by it.  


Victor crossed his arms. “And you’re not a wharl whisperer, right? You just feel the wharl that flows through everything? No you’re right that’s totally normal.”  


Yuuri turned to him, his anger flaring again. He’d never met someone quite so irritating in his entire life.  


“I don’t know what it is that’s going on with me, okay? I don’t know where the stuff I can do comes from or why it is that I feel the energy of things. I just do. So why don’t you just leave me alone?”  


Suddenly Victor unfolded his arms and placed his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. It was so unexpected that Yuuri just stood there and blinked rather than shaking him off.  


“Because,” Victor said, “because we can help you.”  


Then just as quickly as he’d placed them there, Victor removed his hands from Yuuri’s shoulders, leaving him standing with his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide. There was silence as Victor looked down and Yuuri continued to stare at him. Eventually he broke the silence.  


“Okay.”  


Victor looked up.  


“What?” he asked.  


“I said okay,” Yuuri replied, shrugging.  


It was Victor’s turn to look confused. He leant back slightly, considering him. He searched Yuuri’s eyes as though to make sure he was serious.  


“You’ll stay?”  


Yuuri shrugged again, looking down at his boot as he scuffed the toe against the floor.  


“Yeah, whatever. Not for long or anything.” He looked up at him sharply. “And I want a lock for that room I sleep in… and you have to tell me everything you know about… about wharl whisperers.” He tested the words on his tongue.  


Victor put his hands up in surrender, the small smile returning to his lips.  


“As you wish, sir.”  


Yuuri gave him the withering look he’d become used to throwing in his direction, and turned back to the orb.  


Its light pulsed along in sequence to the thrum he felt it emit. It was so familiar, and not knowing where he knew it from was like having an itch on his brain that he couldn’t scratch. All he had to do was stay long enough to figure out where he knew it from. He was sure it held some special significance to him, but couldn’t place it.  


Someone cleared their throat loudly from behind them, pulling Yuuri sharply from his reverie. He turned to see a tall, barrel chested man standing in the door.  


“Celestino,” Victor greeted the stranger, inclining his head towards him. “Come and meet our guest. Yuuri this is Celestino, The True’s blacksmith and weapons master. Celestino this is Yuuri, he’s a wharl whisperer.”  


Victor’s last words made Celestino stop dead, mid-stride across the room. The man’s gaze flicked back and forth between the pair, his eyes dark under his bushy brows.  


“I’ve only been gone a day and you manage to dig up a wharl whisperer?” Celestino gathered himself and crossed the room to them, shaking his head so that a lock of wild hair fell free of the long ponytail at the nape of his neck. “By the Gods, Victor, next you’ll be telling me that you’ve slain an arkilith.”  


“Actually it was a crayn beast, but not far off,” Victor replied.  
Celestino’s jaw went slightly slack, and he looked as though he was going to ask for more details, but then he closed his eyes and shook his head.   


“You know what? I don’t want to know. You can tell me later if it’s of any great importance.” Then he turned his attention to Yuuri, a smile spreading across his face.  


“A pleasure, my boy. I trust they’ve been looking after you?”  


Yuuri went to make a sarcastic comment about kidnapping, but the smith cut him off. “My but how thin you are! We must get you fed immediately.”  


Celestino shot a disapproving tut and a dirty look at Victor, before crossing to Yuuri and offering him his arm.  


“He lives on the streets, Celestino,” Victor said, his hands returned to their place behind his back. “I had nothing to do with starving him.”  


Yuuri shot Victor a look as dirty as Celestino’s, but the big man spoke for him as he led him towards the door.  


“No excuse, you should be piling food down him throat with the size he is.”  


Yuuri was amused that this beast of a man — with his wild black hair and his immense size — was such a mother hen. He patted his arm and asked him questions about where he was from as he led him down the stairs. Victor followed behind them, probably rolling his eyes, but Yuuri didn’t care. He told Celestino about the church he lived in, and when he asked why Yuuri even revealed that his family had died when he was eleven, but quickly moved the conversation onto something else. Celestino was a fascinating man, his articulacy and way he could paint a picture with his words were very impressive, and Yuuri felt herself relax as they talked.  


As they returned to the corridor leading to the kitchen a wonderful smell caught Yuuri’s attention, he stopped mid-sentence and turned to look at the open door ahead of them. When they entered the kitchen Yuuri saw that it was not only Lilia doing the cooking, but a sturdily built man was also chipping in, busying himself by hacking slabs of meat apart with a cleaver. He looked up at the trio that had just entered. Then he dropped the cleaver and wiped his hands on his apron, rounding the great table with his hand extended to Yuuri.  


“You must be Yuuri. I’m Yakov,” he said, shaking his hand. Yakov wore a frown to rival Lilia’s, his grip firm as he shook Yuuri’s hand. “Have a seat by the fire, this won’t be ready for another twenty minutes.”  


“Actually,” he said, removing his arm gently from Celestino’s. “I think I’m going to go get some air. This is all…” he trailed off, but Lilia flapped a hand at him.  


“You don’t have to explain, we’ve thrown a lot at you,” Lilia said, only briefly looking up from the recipe she was consulting. “Take as long as you need.”  


Yuuri inclined his head and turned back to the door, but Victor stepped forward.  


“If you wouldn’t mind some company,” he started, “I know a place that I think you’ll like.”  


Yuuri considered him for a moment. He’d done nothing but annoy Yuuri, but his manner hinted that he might just want to put him at ease, so he nodded, and followed Victor from the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still can't thank everyone enough for their comments and kudos, they're really encouraging!

‘We’re in a jungle,’ was Yuuri first thought, as he allowed Victor to help him clamber up and out of the hatch in the roof. He realised straight away that this was of course impossible, what with them being in the centre of the capital city, but he was still struck by the sheer density of the vegetation.

Victor had led him to the very top of the house, and then up a spiral staircase and out onto what was evidentially the roof. But the plants around them didn’t belong in this climate. They were heavy, oversized jungle plants, with huge leaves and massive flowers.

Yuuri crossed to a large fern and touched the curl at the tip of its stem. As he did so, a bird burst forth from the tree behind the fern, obviously startled by his intrusion. Yuuri started back, then watched the bird flap into the branches of another tree, a hand on his chest.

“How can these plants survive here?” he asked, turning to Victor, who he realised had been watching him, a curious look on his face.

“Enchantments,” he responded, flicking his chin towards the roof edge, “and some other magic around the perimeter. I don’t know the finer details, but I know that the plants thrive in it.”

“Probably Skae,” Yuuri mused, sensing that Victor actually knew much of the finer details. He pinched the tip of the fern between his thumb and forefinger, and looked up to see Victor’s hand had paused where it had been undoing the top button of his shirt.

“That’s right. How did you know that?” he asked, his eyes on his sleeve as he rolled it up.

Yuuri looked up into the canopy above them. He breathed in the air, squinting at the green light that fell through the leaves.

“My parent’s inn was the largest in our village. My mother liked the kitchen to have fresh ingredients, so encouraged trade from merchants who used enchantments such as Skae. I had a tutor for other basic enchantments.”

He bought his eyes back down to where Victor was tucking his hands in his pockets, and realised how relaxed he looked, quite a contrast from the straight backed and serious man Yuuri had presumed him to be.

The sunlight shone green through the leaves, but only made it down to the floor in a few patches, giving the whole place a subterranean feel.

Yuuri rolled up his own shirtsleeves.

“Those charms keep it warm, even though summer’s over,” he commented.

Victor only nodded in response. Yuuri turned away from him, and swept back a curtain of vines, revealing a narrow path through the undergrowth. He looked back over his shoulder at Victor, who was still watching him, and grinned, stepping through the gap he’d made and making off down the path.

“This building must be huge to fit all this,” Yuuri said, picking his way over roots and foliage.

“Well The True used to have many more members,” Victor replied from where he followed behind, “even if we are nearly wiped out now.”

After a few more paces, Yuuri came upon an alcove cleared in the side of the path to make room for a simple stone slab of a bench. He crossed to the bench and flopped down upon it, enjoying the cool of the stone.

“This humidity is like a real jungle,” he sighed, propping his elbows on the low back of the bench and stretching his legs out.

Victor nodded. He followed him to the bench, and Yuuri noticed how silent his progress was compared to his, not a single snap from any of the twigs strewn across the path.

“I don’t want you to feel as though I’m accompanying you so as to keep an eye on you,” Victor started, settling himself on the furthest possible point from Yuuri on the bench. “I just… I know we didn’t get off to the best start, and I am sorry about surprising you in the church.”

He turned to look at Yuuri, sincerity in his blue eyes as they came to meet his.

Yuuri nodded, amused by his formal way of talking, and Victor pressed his lips together, looking almost as though he was pleased.

“Good,” he said.

They sat for a moment in silence, before Yuuri couldn’t hold back any longer.

“You don’t seem like the type to readily offer up apologies,” he prodded teasingly.

“And how would you know my type?” Victor raised an eyebrow at him.

Yuuri tilted his head to the side, considering a pink and yellow flower opposite them, which was the size of his head.

“I’m good at reading people,” he said.

Victor scoffed but didn’t say anything. They fell back into silence, and Yuuri’s lazily roaming eyes found the thin crosshatch of scars slivering up the skin of Victor’s forearms.

“Can I ask you something personal?” Victor asked. He turned to Yuuri, and Yuuri’s eyes jumped guiltily away from the scars.

“You can ask,” Yuuri said, reaching down to pull off his boots and socks, rolling up his trousers to reveal his smooth, slender calves. Victor paused, and it was his turn to cast his eyes anywhere but where they wanted to go.

“How exactly did you lose your parents?”

Yuuri let out a gust of breath.

“My apologies,” Victor said, “forget I asked.”

There was an awkward pause, and a wind stirred the leaves above them but only slightly cooled the heavy air.

“It was a fire,” Yuuri whispered eventually. Victor turned to look at him, and he shifted his weight slightly, staring at the giant flower. “They died in a fire along with my sister. I was eleven. Still have the marks.”

He was referring to the burns that had scarred his left thigh, hip, and torso, marking him as though he’d burning oil poured down that side of his body. He hid them carefully, and never spoke of them. But the lines on Victor’s arms made him sure that Victor at least could understand pain. The kind of pain that throws you into shock at the intrusion. When expression loses all of its affectations, and there’s only the immediate, animal reaction to the threat on the body.

Yes, Yuuri was sure Victor knew that kind of pain. And he wondered if his memory had gone as curiously blank around his incident of it, as Yuuri’s had, curling protectively in on itself.

“I’m sorry.” Victor kept his eyes on the vines snaking along the floor between his feet.

“No,” said Yuuri, his voice far away, “no it’s fine.”

They sat in comfortable but pregnant silence for a while, the chirping of exotic birds sounding through the trees, the occasional insect buzzing lazily through the thick air around them.

“My parents are dead too,” Victor said, breaking the silence.

Yuuri turned to look at his profile. He was still staring intently at the floor.

“How?” Yuuri asked, his voice very quiet.

Victor blew air through his lips and sat up straight.

“My mother overdosed when I was very young,” Victor said, his voice flat. “I don’t know who my father was. I grew up amongst a group of scum. They used to rob people on the road, attack women. They’re all dead now. Lilia found me when I was six, brought me back here, to The True. She’s the closest thing I have to a mother now.”

He turned back to see how Yuuri was processing this information. And Yuuri was surprised to find a new hint of respect for Victor.

“I stabbed a man,” he stated bluntly.

His bold statement of the thing, as though he’d just stated his favourite colour, made Victor laugh.

“What?” Yuuri asked, his own lip quirking up.

“Nothing, just the way you said it,” Victor replied. “What happened?”

Yuuri pushed a hand through his thick hair, dragging it away from his face before it fell back across his forehead.

“He cornered me in an alley, was grabbing at my clothes. So I stabbed him.” He shrugged, as though it was nothing. “I was going for his crotch, but he moved and I hit him in the abdomen. He might have protected his valuables but he’s probably dead from a gut wound like that.” He gave Victor an only briefly faltering grin.

Victor tittered, and Yuuri realised how twisted it was that they were laughing. It was something you learnt to do when you’d been roughing it as hard as they had. You either laughed, or you didn’t make it out with your sanity.

“So what else can I do?” Yuuri asked, his tone upbeat as he changed the subject with a dramatic exhalation of air. “As a wharl whisperer I mean.”

“Well,” started Victor, turning himself so he was facing Yuuri from his position at the opposite end of the bench. “We don’t actually know all that much about the whisperers, seeing as there have been so few. But considering the wharl runs through everything, I think the possibilities are endless. Who knows what you could achieve at your full potential.”

Yuuri sat and considered this for a moment, a small smile growing on his face.

“Maybe I like the sound of the wharl whisper stuff after all,” he grinned.

Victor’s lip quirked back into a smile.

“But you would have to be careful,” Victor warned, looking suddenly serious. “We do know that trying to unleash too much of the wharl at once could overpower you. It has the ability to turn you mad, and that would lead to certain disaster.”

Yuuri’s brows creased, his smile disappearing.

“I reckon I know how to handle myself,” he said.

“I don’t doubt that,” Victor said carefully, “but this is in a league of its own. In the church, before I put you to sleep, you started having a fit.”

Yuuri's face scrunched up.

“I… I might be able to remember.”

He shuddered.

“You started to bend things,” Victor continued, “the objects around us began to contort. I’ve never seen anything like it. Seriously if I hadn’t put you under I don’t know what would have happened.”

There was another moment of silence, in which Yuuri stared at his hands resting on his thighs.

“It’s happened before,” he muttered, thinking of the time that he and Phichit had been chased into what he’d been sure was a dead end. He remembered the clarity of detail that came with the focus of danger, Phichit clambering up a fence, reaching down to haul Yuuri up after him, grasping Phichit’s wrist, Phichit’s eyes going wide as he looked over Yuuri’s shoulder, and the way the world had suddenly slipped from focus as he felt a hand on his ankle.

“Well nothing actually happened but I was scared. I mean really scared,” Yuuri continued, skipping over the cause and going straight for the effect. “I started seeing really out there images of stuff… there was kind of lines, or… I don’t know, just stuff, in everything, every object… like what you see in a kaleidoscope — but… not,” he finished lamely, and looked up to see Victor’s eyebrow had quirked up in amusement.

“How long ago was that?” he asked, perhaps knowing that it wasn’t the time to mock. “Wharl whisperers’ abilities are supposed to get stronger as they come of age.”

“About a year ago,” Yuuri said after a moment’s consideration. “So I’d have been seventeen.”

Victor nodded.

“Sounds about right,” he said. “Long ago, there was a whisperer who went unchecked, he was in a similar position to you; no home, no family.”

“Hey,” said Yuuri, his voice harsh, “I have a home and a family.”

Victor put a hand up.

“Okay, sorry. But you have no one in a position to tutor you to control your mind. No one with Dur’rish blood in them.” He sounded like he was tiptoeing around Yuuri’s annoyance. “Neither did this man. Have you heard of the Traibekka Canyon in the East? Yeah well he made that.”

Yuuri’s mouth fell open.

“A man – I mean, one of my kind, made that? But that things goes on for miles.”

“Well that’s what I meant when I said this was in a league of its own.”

Yuuri revelled in this information. If these people weren’t just insane, then Yuuri had the power to rip apart cities, topple mountains, and Gods knew what else. He looked down at himself, his thin arms and legs, his hands covered in little scratches, seeing it all in a new light. Yuuri found that he didn’t even know his own body, not with this power moving through it.

“What’s dur’rish blood?” he asked in a whisper, flipping over his hands to look at the purple tree of veins on his wrists.

“It’s our ancestry,” Victor said, equally quiet as he looked at Yuuri’s wrists from where he sat at the other end of the bench. “The blood of the gods, some say. But scientifically speaking we’re the results of some kind of species cross over. Your parents will have both carried dur’rish blood, even if it didn’t make itself evident.”

“Is that why Lilia gave us all freaky names, blane?” Yuuri asked, not stopping to dwell on what Victor had said about his parents.

Victor laughed.

“Yes that’s just a way of distinguishing between the manifestations that the ancestry reveals itself in. And it does so very particularly, hence why it’s easy to name.”

Yuuri had put his hands back in his lap to look at Victor, but they had knotted themselves together as he listened to him.

“As you’ve probably gathered, wharl whisperers are the rarest.”

After letting Yuuri soak all this in for a while, Victor stood. Yuuri looked up at him, slightly dazed.

“Come on, lunch will be ready,” he said. “Unless you would like a moment to think.”

Yuuri scooped up his boots and socks, and stood.

“I’m lucky if I get one square meal a day, of course I’m coming.”

Victor gave Yuuri a small smile, and it was with some disappointment that Yuuri watched his face melt back into that blank mask, his eyes becoming distant and distracted. Victor turned, and Yuuri followed him back through the dense foliage to the hatch leading down through the roof.

 

* * *

 

When they re-entered the kitchen, five bowls had been laid out and Lilia was setting a steaming pot of stew down on the table. Victor was watching the look on Yuuri’s face with amusement. He knew what it was to not know whether you were going to eat that day, and when they set themselves down to start, he noted that Yuuri managed to stop himself from shovelling great spoonfuls into his mouth.

“So Lilia, when should we tell Yuuri about the impending doom and all that?” Victor said conversationally.

Yuuri gave him a confused look, pausing with his spoon still in his mouth. Lilia let out an irritated sigh, and scowled at Victor.

“For Dur’rum’s sake, Victor,” she said, passing around a basket of bread rolls. “You’re going to scare the boy.”

“Yeah,” chipped in Yakov, “and I don’t think we should really be sharing that stuff. We just don’t know Yuuri yet.”

“On the contrary,” Celestino joined in, “I reckon we can trust him, can’t we, Yuuri?”

“Quiet all of you,” Lilia said, silencing Yakov before he could respond. She sighed again and put the basket down. “I suppose we have to tell you know. Although I would have liked to have let you settle in a bit.” She looked at Yuuri apologetically.

Victor hid his satisfaction, but he knew he’d get an earful from Lilia later. Not that it mattered, he sensed that they didn’t have time to let their guest settle in.

“There’s been some kind of disturbance,” Lilia said. “In the balance of things. Maybe in the wharl itself, who knows, it’s too early to tell. But Victor encountered one of the Dunner within the city, something that’s not supposed to happen.” She grimaced. “And it spoke. Very concerning since they haven’t been able to do that in two thousand years.”

“The Dunner have been dumb beasts since the fall of Graif, hence the two thousand years,” Celestino informed Yuuri, who was looking both concerned and confused. “So you can understand our concern.”

“I thought Graif was a myth,” Yuuri asked, looking anxiously between the members of The True.

“On the contrary,” growled Yakov, looking somber. “He was unfortunately very real.”

“Anyway, I had to consult the garn, a type of… well it doesn’t matter,” Lilia said. “What does matter is that it led us to you. Clearly you don’t have the answers right now, but the fact that you’re a whisperer is a sign that we’re on the right track.”

Yuuri seemed to realise they were all looking at him. He placed his spoon down.

“Um, well. Yes, that’s just…” He looked at Victor, his brow furrowed. Victor felt a pang of sympathy for him, and almost reached out a hand to him. But he stopped himself.

“Listen I’m just some street kid,” Yuuri continued. “I really don’t have the answers you’re looking for. I mean sure some of this stuff fits with what I can do but…”

Yuuri looked around at them, seemingly unable to put into the words the size of the things he’d been told. Lilia nodded.

“I thought you might still feel that way,” she said, and stood. Lilia rounded the table and gestured for Celestino to budge along from where he sat next Yuuri. She settled herself down and held out her hands. “Give me your hands.”

“Why?” Yuuri asked, drawing them back into his lap.

“Just trust me.” Lilia beckoned him with her own hands.

Gingerly, Yuuri placed his hands in Lilia’s. The older woman closed her eyes, her thumbs brushing over Yuuri’s knuckles. There was silence as Lilia sat with her head tilted down. Yuuri looked up at the others. They were all staring intently.

“A fire,” Lilia said, her voice slow and flat, “that is how your parents died.”

Yuuri stared at the woman in front of him, and then turned to Victor.

“You told her at… some point,” he shot at him, but Victor shook his head before resting it on his hand to continue watching.

“It marked you up your left side,” Lilia continued, drawing Yuuri’s attention back to her. “As their tavern burned you were afraid of the glass shards.”

Yuuri opened and closed his mouth, looking like he wanted to pull his hands back but was held there by fascination. The unnerving monotone of Lilia’s voice flowed on.

“The dark shadow scared you, it stood amongst the flames and you can’t remember whether you imagined it or not. Sometimes you have dreams about it, as you do about what would have happened had you not managed to stab the man who attacked you in the alley.

“Your friend’s name is Phichit, you trust him with your life and he is the only one that knows of how you can lose control.” It was all coming out fast now, like Lilia had had grappled with and won a hold on the slippery images of Yuuri’s past. “He once saved you from a gang of men, he managed to stop them from doing what they had intended to do, but you were badly beaten. He carried you back to your church and nursed you back to health. You remember him stroking your hair. He pulled you out of your seclusion after the street child Tanarwen was attacked and—”

“Okay,” Yuuri cut Lilia off, yanking his hands out of the older woman’s, making Lilia come sharply round to the present, looking dazed. “That’s enough.”

Yuuri stood, his lips pressed into a thin line. He seemed a little unsteady on his feet, and gripped the table edge for support as he climbed clumsily over the bench.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri,” Lilia said, looking upset. “The bad things tend to leave particularly potent marks, easier to read. And your life…”

Yuuri held up a hand.

“Yes, I know. My life.” He turned, shooting a look at Victor who had risen to follow him, and left the room.

Victor sat back down.

“By the Gods, he’s had it hard,” Yakov breathed out.

“He’s a boy on the streets,” Celestino said. “He’s lucky that he had a friend to fight with him. Evidently not everyone was fortunate enough to be found in time.” The big man looked down, his face twisted into an angry grimace.


	5. Chapter 5

Yuuri paced the hallways of the large house on Illwitch Street. He had intended to return to the room he’d slept in, but found that he didn’t want to sit still. At first all he’d done was roam the corridors, not paying attention to his surroundings, just trying to burn off the anger that was boiling away inside him.

It seemed as though they were telling the truth after all. Whilst Lilia’s little show had bought him sharply and completely to their way of thinking, it had also managed to reopen a lot of old wounds.

He was trying to push the images of Tanarwen’s blood covering his hands out of his mind. But they were coming thick and fast. When Phichit had bought him out of his grief, Yuuri had killed every last one of the men that had abused and killed Tanarwen. An act that he’d pushed down amongst the other dregs of his life. He’d hunted them down with the help of Cao Bin’s gang, roused them from their drunken slumber with hard kicks before finishing the job. But the girl had been eight, and it hadn’t bought her back into that space under Yuuri’s arm that she liked to crawl under to listen to stories.

Eventually Yuuri slowed down to a more relaxed pace. He took in his surroundings. He’d managed to work his way up to the top of the house, and was standing on a corridor lined with the same dark wood panelling as the others. Yuuri opened the door closest to him. Beyond it was a bedroom, similar to the one he’d awoken in but with a different colour scheme, a rich peach and cream dressing the bed and curtains that he was not a fan of. Working his way down the corridor, Yuuri discovered more bedrooms. None of them held much of interest, until finally he opened one door and revealed a full blown laboratory.

Pausing, Yuuri took in the glass bottles and tubes on the high table in the centre of the room. The walls that weren’t taken up by a huge window looking out onto the garden were covered in bottles, stacked from floor to ceiling on the shelves. All manner of coloured liquids, powders, samples, and even some gases were stored in the bottles. Yuuri caught sight of something that looked like an animal ear and quickly looked away. The bottles were interspersed in some places by heavy looking leather bound books, a couple of which lay open on the central desk, sheaths of paper with inked notes lying on top. Whomever the scribe of these notes was had clearly found paper to be insufficient, as the equations also crawled across the window, overlaying the garden outside with their spidery lines.

Yuuri considered all this for a while, eyeing the experiment in progress on the table, and then closed the door. If there was a laboratory and an artefacts room in this house, he decided there must be even more rooms of interest yet to discover, and sped off down the corridor. He started working his way through the doors at a speed that only a professional burglar develops. Open a door, scan to register a room’s contents, move on. It became like a game of hide and seek, and Yuuri found himself enjoying the freedom to explore, discover, and catalogue the contents of a house with no risk of imprisonment or a very angry guard at the end of it. Joy filled him when he discovered the more interesting rooms, like a cosy little den with various books lying abandoned by their readers, and sighs of impatience escaping him when he revealed another regular bedroom or sitting room.

Yuuri had managed to work his way down to two flights of stairs to the second floor, when he found a room that made him stop completely. He’d flung the door open hurriedly, nearly falling through it in his excitement, and come to a stop, holding onto the door handle to steady himself.

The room was large, and unlike the others, the walls had been left unpainted. A type of slate gray plaster, or perhaps even stone, seamlessly flowed from ceiling, to wall, to floor. There were no windows, but four heavy stone plinths stood in each corner of the room, with merl lights floating above them. Their cold, enchanted glow illuminated all manner of weapons that were mounted on every wall.

Yuuri entered, closing the door behind him, and walked around the room to look at them. There were swords of various shape and size, long combat sticks, maces, war hammers, crossbows, and other odd things which were rich in the spiky and sharp department. Dotted around in the middle of the room was an assortment of fighting practice apparatus. Torsos made of sackcloth and stuffed with flower were propped on sticks or hung from the ceiling, for obstacle course training there were wooden blocks and pillars with rotatable poles, sticking out at angles ready to trip or clobber. Against the far wall were three archery targets on solid looking legs. The colour, lighting, and contents of the room left it feeling cold and harsh, and put Yuuri oddly on edge.

After a moment of taking it all in, Yuuri crossed to the wall, rolling his sleeves up as he went, and reached for a combat staff. He knew just what would help get rid of the remaining ill feelings. Yuuri plucked up the staff with a strip of black material wound round its middle. It felt good in his hands, and he adjusted his grip, testing its weight. Turning to one of the sack dummies, Yuuri positioned his hands, breathed in, and then lashed out. He was fast, pummelling the dummy with a quick series of blows. Pausing, he caught his breath, looking down at the staff in his hands.

‘Now where has this been all my life?’ he wondered.

“Very good,” a voice behind him said, and Yuuri span to see Yakov standing near the door.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asked.

Yakov started across the room towards him. Although shorter than Celestino and Victor, Yakov’s frame was built with muscle.

“Long enough to see that you’re not half bad with that staff. With a bit of training, you’ll be good.” He came to a stop in front of Yuuri.

Yuuri stood the weapon on its end, holding it in one hand like a walking stick. His face was flushed from the exercise.

“What’s your skill?” Yuuri asked.

“Mine?” Yakov asked in response, looking surprised.

Yuuri nodded.

“Victor’s got his speed and strength, and apparently a few other tricks, and Lilia’s got the thing with the past and the future, apparently I’m some sort of whisperer... so what can you do?”

Yakov considered him, looking amused by his blunt question.

“Well,” he started, “I’ve got a way with beasts.”

Yuuri stared at him. Yakov just stood, hands on his hips, letting Yuuri ogle him.

“So what, you can talk to animals?” he asked.

“Not exactly. I more have a kinship with them, and they just understand me.”

He turned to walk over to a heavy looking set of round weights, glancing back to speak over his shoulder.

“They’ll do my bidding if I wish it. Not that I would ever force an animal into submission. Man has done enough damage to beasts as it is, far more than the Dunner ever did,” Yakov went on as he reached the metal weights set on the floor.

Yakov reached the weights, if that’s what they could be called. They looked more industrial than that, made to lay down foundations than to be lifted by man. Yakov considered them briefly, before choosing the largest. It was a gigantic teardrop of metal, painted a slick black, with a varnish finish that made it look difficult to grip. Yuuri would not have been able to touch hands if he were to wrap his arms around it.

“This is my other skill,” Yakov said, before gripping the handle in the top of the weight and hoisting the thing up. Yuuri stared as he lifted the huge lump of metal over his head. Before he hurled it across the room. There was a deafening crash as it connected with floor, and Yuuri winced, thinking it would crack the stone. But the floor remained intact.

Yuuri was nodding as Yakov returned to where he stood.

“That’s… yeah that’s pretty impressive,” Yuuri said, looking at his feet. “I’m sorry if I’m being blunt. I’m not in the best of moods.”

Yakov tucked his hands into his pockets.

“Yes, Lilia really drew out some of the bad stuff, didn’t she?” he said, looking down. “Apologies. I think she’s just desperate for you to be on board with us. Bad things have happened to those of our kind who didn’t have others to look out for them.”

He looked up at Yuuri, and in his steady gaze, Yuuri understood that he was seeing more than the boy that stood before him.

“When the wharl was more real to people, and not worshipping the gods was a sin, those who could… pervert the natural order were punished.” Yakov blinked away from him, or perhaps away from the image of every lost and hunted thing. “They did horrible things to them in the name of the gods that have given us our power.”

“You believe in the Gods?” Yuuri asked, very quietly, respecting the memories of an oppressed people that he was invoking.

“Yes I do.” He looked back at Yuuri, and although his expression remained as stern as ever, some warmth had come into it. “It’s hard not to when I’ve got someone like you standing before me. Another reason Lilia wants you close and protected from what she knows is coming. You’ll do great things, boy.”

“It’s all…” Yuuri trailed off, looking around the room, lifting his free hand half-heartedly then letting it flop back down to his side.

“A bit overwhelming?” Yakov finished for him.

“Yeah,” Yuuri said, releasing a breath.

Yakov nodded and looked back down, stroking his beard with one hand and placing the other on his hip.

Yuuri liked how solid he seemed, how normal, compared to Victor’s distant, ethereal presence. Lilia was better, but sometimes it was as though she wasn’t fully tethered to the present. Yakov reminded Yuuri of a big sturdy oak tree.

“Well I don’t know much about your life,” Yakov started. “But I do know that you seem to be… I don’t know, drifting, like you’re still trying to find your feet.”

“Aren’t we all?” laughed Yuuri.

Yakov smiled.

“Perhaps,” he said, “but I can tell you no other group of people will give you as solid a ground to land on as the family you’ll find here.”

Then he turned and left, leaving Yuuri to stare after him.

 

* * *

 

As the sun set over Lillenwyn, Yuuri sat huddled in an alcove, high up on one of the balconies of the library. The round skylight overhead was like an artist’s paint palette, full of the burnt oranges and angry pinks of the sky. A warm glow had encased the library, reflecting off the gold of the various astronomical models hung at intervals round the lip of each balcony. One of them rotated slowly, so that its glint caught Yuuri’s eye, and he looked up from the book propped open on his lap.

He was sat crossed legged on a cosy little green sofa, rounded so that it fitted the curved back wall of the alcove, making Yuuri feel as though he was sat on a giant lily pad. A map hung behind him, obviously very old from its stained colour and rough edges. It showed the country of Toarin, the city of Lillenwyn a densely packed sketch on the map even back then. He would have once found the sea creatures drawn in the oceans surrounding the land fantastical and imaginative, but after what he’d seen recently, Yuuri wasn’t sure if it was just a member of The True drawing the beasts from memory.

The book he was leafing through was a large tomb, pressing into his crossed legs with its soft leather spine. The pages crackled with age, and he turned them carefully, aware of how brittle they were. The lines of cursive writing were tiny and densely packed, printed straight from hand into the volume. He struggled to read it without the magnifying glass he usually used, having left that at the church. But drawings of all manner of strange objects were sketched with great detail by a skilled artist. Most of the contraptions he’d never seen before. Some were really quite ordinary, but their notes proclaimed them to hold great power. Yuuri was unused to this world of fantastical things, and although there were plenty of enchanted things sold in very regular shops, he couldn’t help feeling like the items which he read about in this book were figments of someone’s imagination.

Yuuri had nearly reached the end of the book, and still there had been no mention of the orb that so fascinated him. He was getting a headache from straining his eyes. Impatiently, he flicked through the last few pages, slamming the book closed with an annoyed sigh.

“What were you hoping to find?”

Yuuri looked up to see Victor standing over on the other side of the balcony, leaning on its banister so his shoulders hung over the drop between them.

“What is with you lot and interrupting my alone time?” Yuuri asked, irritated.

He stood, and circled about a quarter of the way round the balcony, and slid the book back into its place on a shelf. The book next to it was considerably smaller, about the size of his hand, with no title and a strip of leather wound around it to hold it shut. Yuuri drew it out and started to unwind the binding.

“Ah,” said Victor, from where he’d suddenly materialised next to Yuuri, almost making him drop the book. “That’s the field journal of Armanius Strange.”

Yuuri opened the little book, and saw that it did indeed have the initials A.S scratched in the bottom left hand corner of the first page.

“What so you’ve read every book in this library?” he asked, sounding as frustrated as he felt. Being inside for so long, with all these people who he didn’t know, and having no answers to what he was experiencing put him on edge.

“Most of them,” Victor said, looking up at the stacks of books.

“You need to get out more,” Yuuri said curtly, then turned and started making his way back towards the alcove.

“Serious problem with manners,” Victor said from behind him.

“Yeah well maybe I don’t like being followed around,” he shot back over his shoulder, feeling only a little bit bad.

Suddenly Victor appeared in front of him. Yuuri blinked, coming to a stop. One minute he’d not been there, the next he simply was. He was looking at Yuuri with a stern expression, and there was ice in his eyes.

“I know you’ve had to be tough to make it on the streets, hell I heard what you’ve been through.” His voice was low and dangerous, as though he was just about done with Yuuri’s bull, which sort of relieved Yuuri because he was tired of throwing it around anyway.

It was sort of thrilling being challenged by Victor, cracking that lofty exterior and actually having him react to Yuuri. Yuuri pushed away the little rush of excitement that ran through him when Victor stepped in close. His eyes were very blue.

“But you’re here now, and we’ve been nothing but nice. And you’re not the only one that’s had it hard or seen loved ones die. So just. Cut. The. Crap.”

Then he turned and strode away, leaving Yuuri feeling very small indeed. He stood there for a moment, gathering his composure, before carrying on to the alcove.

But once he had settled himself down again, the notes of Armanius Strange open in his hand, he couldn’t concentrate. He kept on seeing the look of irritation on Victor’s face. He huffed to himself, closing the book, and got up to return it to its place. He pulled out a book of poetry, and decided to spend the rest of the evening in the room that was apparently his now.

Leaving the library, he found the house to be in its usual quiet state, interrupted only by the tick of a clock or the creak of the timber, until Yuuri reached the corridor adjacent to the one with his bedroom. The sound of piano strings vibrated through the air, making him pause. The music was beautiful, flowing effortlessly from the fingers of the player, a sombre classical piece that spoke of secret places. Yuuri followed the sound, passing his door and turning onto the corridor beyond. A door to the left was slightly ajar, the candlelight spilling into the hallway.

Yuuri approached it. He hesitated before it, then pushed it open a fraction more, peering into the room.

Victor was sat at a magnificent grand piano, in a cosy sitting room unremarkable from the others, except for the instruments displayed on shelves and in stands. His head was tilted down as his fingers flowed over the keys, making his skill appear effortless. The song was a melancholy tune, rising and falling, twisting through the still air with its grace, and when it reached its crescendo, Yuuri found that his vision was blurred by tears. He stepped back from the door, blinking furiously, and then turned, retreating back to his room, leaving Victor to pour his frustration into music.

 

* * *

 

When Yuuri entered the kitchen the next morning, Victor thought he looked more rested than he’d seen him so far. His lids were heavy with the sleep he was still shaking off, and his dark hair was still damp from the shower, but he looked calm as he settled down at the table. He also noted that he was back in his own white shirt and leather trousers, his sleeves rolled up and belt tied firmly in place.

Yuuri turned to him, and gave him a small smile. The warmth in it jolted something inside Victor.

“Good morning,” he said softly.

This, and the position he’d chosen next to him, Victor realised were Yuuri’s attempt at apologising.

“And to you,” Victor said, returning the smile.

He couldn’t hold Yuuri’s attitude against him. He had sort of kidnapped him after all, then they’d thrown a whole bunch of wild information at him, and then there’d been the whole echoing episode with Lilia.

“I need to send this letter to Phichit,” Yuuri said, holding up a thick, folded piece of paper. “Is there a courier I can use?”

“Yes, I can sort it,” Celestino spoke up, reaching across the table to take the letter from Yuuri. “It’ll reach him later today.”

“Good,” Yuuri said, sounding relieved. “I’m worried about how he would’ve reacted to me not being at the church. We just did a major – well, he’d have panicked.”

Lilia was busy stirring a large bowl of porridge, whilst managing to pour Celestino a cup of tea whilst he went back to reading his newspaper. They’d positioned themselves at the end of the table next to the stove, far from the fire at the other end of the room, so as to keep Lilia company.

“How are you feeling?” Lilia asked Yuuri, looking as though she wanted to say more.

“I’m fine,” Yuuri said, offering her a smile.

Victor had noticed that Yuuri held a certain level of respect and manners for the woman.

“There’s a bowl here on the side if you want porridge, and there’s toast under the grill,” Lilia said, gesturing with a nod of her head.

Yuuri thanked her and rose to be served from the big pot, before pouring himself some tea and swiping a piece of toast to hold in his mouth, bringing his plunder back to the table with obvious joy.

“Did you sleep well, Yuuri?” Victor asked, in his quiet murmur.

“Like a log,” Yuuri said, looking content as he buttered his toast.

“That arse,” Celestino grumbled suddenly, not looking up from his newspaper.

Yuuri shot a baffled look at the big man.

“Don’t worry about him,” said Victor, leaning towards Yuuri in an aside. “He gets far too passionate about politics.”

“And you should too, boy,” exclaimed Celestino, throwing his newspaper down. “If you know anything about the cuts their making to the education system.”

“I’d rather concern myself with protecting the little ones from getting eaten by a crayn beast, but it’s a nice gesture,” Victor responded, sipping his tea.

Celestino had been about to respond but was cut off by Yakov’s entrance.

“Morning all,” he said, making his way over to the stove to assist Lilia.

“Can you get another two bowls out, Yakov?” Lilia asked. “We’ll be having guests arrive any moment.”

Yakov looked confused. “But we’re not expecting – oh, who did you see?”

“Mila and Yuri,” responded Lilia.

Victor rolled his eyes as he chewed his toast, earning him a scolding look from Lilia.

“Oh good,” said Celestino, “I’d been hoping to show Mila my new design for her bow.”

“Show her brother some manners whilst you’re at it,” muttered Victor, loud enough for only Yuuri to hear, who had to hide his grin.

Watching Yuuri’s shoulders hunch in silent laughter, Victor realised that it had been a long while since he’d been around someone of a similar age, and even longer since he’d been with one he really got along with, if that’s what you could call what him and Yuuri were doing. There was potential for friendliness there anyway, he decided.

A short while later the sound of footfalls reached them down the corridor. Mila and Yuri entered the kitchen a moment later, tall and striking in their hunter’s clothes of leather and fur.

The True went to greet their returned members, many handshakes and pats on the back shared amongst the small party.

The siblings were only slightly younger than Yuuri. Although they were of opposite genders, there was an undeniable similarity in their sharp features. They were kitted out for the road, their packs and weapons still on them as they greeted everyone. Yuri observed the room under his tousled mop of blonde hair, more reserved than his sister, who gave every True member a warm embrace.

“Lilia,” Yuri said, his green eyes serious and sharp. “What happened? We picked up on your distress.”

Half way through Yuri’s sentence, Mila joined in, her words and intonation matching her brother’s perfectly. She didn’t look at Lilia as she spoke, but was focused on unbuttoning her dark leather jacket, as though speaking to herself.

Victor looked around for Yuuri, and noticed that he too had risen, and was watching Mila with a furrowed brow. He beckoned towards him, and Yuuri’s gaze snapped to him, before he drew forwards.

“Mila, Yuri, this is Yuuri,” he said.

The twins paused, giving the boy before them a once over. Yuri was frowning more than usual, probably at the fact this newcomer had the audacity to share his name. Victor noticed Yuuri stiffen slightly under their gaze.

“Hi,” said Yuuri, a slight hitch of anxiety in his voice.

Mila crossed to him, and shook his hand. She was the same height as Yuuri.

“Hello,” she said, passing a look back to Yuri, obviously hinting for him to be friendlier.

The male twin came to stand before Yuuri and also shook his hand.

“I’m sure there’s a reason you’re here,” Yuri said, his tone clipped as Mila’s lips twitched along with a few of the words. “But I want food first.”

They settled back down at the table with a bit of shuffling and rearranging of plates, Yakov ensuring that everyone had food and drink. Mila removed the bow and quiver of arrows that she wore, and Yuri slipped off his belt that held two short swords. After a few moments of everyone passing each other the butter, and other essentials, Yuri fixed his cold gaze on Yuuri.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asked, not looking at what he was doing as he scooped jam onto his toast.

Yuuri met Yuri’s eyes with the steel of his own, and Victor realised he should have seen this coming.

“Apparently I’m somewhat of a rarity,” said Yuuri.

Yuri’s eyebrow quirked up into a sceptical arch, and Victor felt a spike of annoyance that another member of The True could be so hostile towards an outsider.

“Is that so?” Yuri’s voice dripped with sarcastic interest, and Victor fought the urge to throw a bread roll at him.

Yuuri nudged Victor and said, “yeah, so Victor here thought it necessary to kidnap me.”

“Well of course he did, Victor’s an idiot,” Yuri snorted.

Lilia was ignoring this little spat, pouring herself tea as Celestino stared determinedly down at his newspaper. But when Victor glanced at Yakov he noted that the man was watching this unfold with the air of an amused parent.

“Yuuri’s a wharl whisperer,” Victor explained.

At that, Yuri’s look of disbelief increased threefold, but Mila leaned forward.

“You are?” she asked, intrigued. “Well then we are honoured.”

She raised her cup of tea to Yuuri in a toast, flicking her vibrant red hair back as she offered him a dazzling smile.

“I’m sorry to spoil the fun,” Yuri interjected, not looking sorry at all, “but I find that very hard to believe. I mean seriously what are the chances?”

“He is,” Victor stated, as though the topic was closed. “You should see him in action, it’s downright terrifying.”

He saw Yuuri glance at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Well, in that case,” Yuri’s snide tone was really starting to grate on Victor. “We’ll have to have a display.”

“Oh,” Yuuri laughed humourlessly, “I’d be happy to show you.”

There was a moment of awkward silence, before Lilia stood up abruptly.

“Who wants scones?” she asked.

Lilia proceeded to bustle around the kitchen, making more noise than was necessary as she got scones out for those who wanted. Yuuri of course accepted, and looked so pleased with the result of getting more food that Yuri’s attitude problem seemed forgotten.

“So,” Mila started, pressing her finger down on her plate to collect scone crumbs, “what’s got you all riled up enough to get our attention?”

“Victor encountered a crayn beast within the city limits,” Celestino said, making Yuri pause in his chewing. “And it spoke to him.”

Both of the twins stared at Celestino, and then blinked in unison as they shifted their gaze to Victor to confirm this.

“Well that’s…” Mila started, and then looked hopelessly at her brother.

“It’s a shitstorm is what it is,” Yuri finished for her, flicking his hair irritably out of his eyes. “Do you think we could have someone messing with the wharl?”

“Who though?” put forth Yakov. “They’d have to be a wharl whisperer or… or something we’ve never experienced before.”

Victor looked at Lilia, who was nibbling her lip, her eyebrows drawn together. Her shoulders slumped as she met his gaze, and she nodded.

“We’ll have to go to the wall of Naiyan,” Victor said, making everyone but Lilia and Yuuri look at him in surprise.

“What’s the wall of Naiyan?” Yuuri asked, looking around confused.

Yuri rolled his eyes and reached for another scone.

“A mural of sorts,” explained Celestino. “The thing’s huge so no-one’s managed to copy down all of it, but it holds some very important information. About the dunner, Dur’rum, the Gods, all sorts.”

“It could tell us more about what’s going on,” said Victor softly.

“Well from the sounds of things we don’t have time to sit around,” said Yuri as he stood, looking around at them all. “What are we waiting for?”

After gathering the plates and clearing up the breakfast things, they went in a little procession up to the artefacts room. Victor was looking at the back of Yuuri’s head, thinking how strange this must be for him. But he was well composed, and he walked along chatting to Celestino as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

Once they’d shut themselves away in the artefacts room, they gathered around a table in the centre of the room behind the orb that had so interested Yuuri. Lilia unrolled a map of Toarin, Celestino and Yakov weighing it down with inkpots and compasses.

“Here, as we know,” said Lilia, “is where the wall of Naiyan lies, deep underground.”

“And right on top of it, what used to be the Fair Palace,” offered Celestino . “If the sightings are correct, it has a lovely little patch of turned guenelin in there.”

“They won’t be a problem,” said Yuri, breezing over it as though it were nothing. “Where’s the entrance?”

“Now hold on.” Yakov put a hand up. “You might be able to take on one of the turned, and even that would be a pretty risky fight, but a whole coven of them? You might as well present yourself with a side salad.”

“The turned ones used to be guenelin,” explained Victor to Yuuri. “They’ve become a myth, but they’re the inspiration for your stories of fairies and the like. They kept to nature, their cities beautiful and at one with the wild. The guenelin probably could have told us lots about the wharl, if they’d been willing. But humans forced a large portion of them into slavery in the second era. They went slowly mad, and their shape shifting abilities stuck them in the form of savage, mindless, beasts… humans ruin everything.”

Yuuri made no response to this; his gaze fixed on the map.

“Yeah I can’t read this,” Yuuri mumbled, squinting at the map.

“You can’t read?” Yuri scoffed, ignoring the fact that a large portion of the population couldn’t read, never mind street children.

“Of course I can,” Yuuri replied coolly. “The text is just too small.”

“Oh do you need glasses?” Celestino piped up, looking pleased. “I can make you some, I love working with glass.”

“You would make me glasses?” Yuuri said, looking slightly dazed by the idea of owning his own pair.

“Of course,” Celestino said, beaming at the boy.

“If,” Yuri cut in, scowling at the pair of them, “we can get back to the matter at hand.”

“Yes,” Mila joined, tracing the route from Lillenwyn to the Fair Palace ruins. “Obviously Yuri and I are going. Who else is coming?” She looked around at them all.

“I will,” Victor said, his eyes on the etching of the ruins.

“And Yuuri,” Lilia piped up, making everyone turn to her.

“What?” asked Yuuri, staring at Lilia with large eyes. “I don’t even know what the guenelin are.”

“You can’t be serious,” drawled Yuri. Victor noticed Yuuri stiffen beside him.

“I’m completely serious,” said Lilia. “I’m sensing that he needs to go with you, and no-one can question my senses.” She looked around at them all, as though daring someone to challenge her.

“He has no proper training,” offered Victor in a low voice.

“I’m not completely useless,” Yuuri shot back.

Victor turned to him, noting how he’d set his jaw and crossed his arms. He had a brief image of a turned one towering over Yuuri. He tried to ignore the way the thought made him feel sick with panic.

But his logic knew Lilia’s powers and Yuuri didn’t look like he was going to listen to him anyway, so Victor gave a sharp nod, his face carefully blank.

“Good, then it’s settled,” said Lilia. “You’re not leaving for another day though, Yuuri needs to choose what weapon he’d like to defend himself with, and receive training in how to use it. The rest he can learn on the journey.”

“But–” Yuri looked annoyed.

“No. He will learn how to fight.” Lilia stared him down.

“I know how to fight,” Yuuri said after an awkward pause.

“I’m afraid fist fighting won’t quite cut it against the turned,” Yakov said.

Lilia picked up a compass and started walking it across the map, following a route from Lillenwyn to the Fair Palace.

“It will take several days to get there by horseback. There’s a small settlement here that you can stop at on the way for supplies. Celestino and Yakov, I’ll need you to stay here with me in case any more of the dunner make it into the city. Yuri and Mila, you should start making a plan for how you’re going to safely enter the palace. I want no heroics getting one of you killed.” She shot a stern look at Yuri, before turning to Victor. “You should start Yuuri’s training now, I don’t expect to see either of you for the rest of the day.”

With that she turned and walked from the room. Yakov and Celestino followed her, discussing the best way to dispose of a turned one, and the siblings leant over the map, not saying anything but nodding occasionally. Victor turned to Yuuri, who was watching the pair’s wordless conversation looking confused.

“Shall we?” he asked.

Yuuri nodded and they left the artefacts room.


	6. Chapter 6

“Mila and Yuri can hear each other’s thoughts,” explained Victor, once they were out of earshot of the pair. “Makes them a formidable match in combat, because they always know just where to be in order to enhance each other’s attack.”

“Well that’s…” Yuuri started, and then seemed to realise he had absolutely no context for what the pair’s telepathic abilities were like. “I bet it gets awkward sharing your thoughts with your sibling sometimes,” he said instead.

Victor’s lip quirked slightly.

“From what I gather, a lot of the time they’re sort of background noise to each other, they only really use it to its full effect when apart or in battle. And the effort that it takes to completely block each other out… I don’t know if they don’t do it because of the strain, or because it makes them uncomfortable being disconnected,” he elaborated as they turned onto the corridor of the weapons room. “They can also get glimmers of thought off people they’re very closely linked to, like their fellow members of The True. But mainly just when those people are in distress, I think Yuri just makes it up otherwise to try and scare me.”

They’d reached the heavy door to the weapons room, and Victor opened it, gesturing for Yuuri to go in ahead of him.

“Yakov tells me you’ve already discovered our weapons room,” Victor said, closing the door behind them.

“It’s good for burning off some steam, yeah,” Yuuri replied, making Victor smirk.

“Are there enchantments on the walls and floor?” Yuuri asked, walking into the centre of the room.

“Yes,” said Victor, crossing to the wall to take down a sword, a bow and arrows, and a combat stick. “There’s plenty of things that are enchanted in this building, but we do have to be vigilant in maintaining the ones in here.”

He approached Yuuri, holding out the sword. It was a beautiful thing of polished silver, a vein of blue crystal running down its centre, stopping just short of the tip.

“You weren’t bad with that fire poker,” he said with a grin. “Why don’t you try a real sword?”

Yuuri ignored his comment, and chose the combat staff instead.

“I think I like this one actually.”

He balanced it in his hands. Victor considered Yuuri with the staff. It suited him in a way.

“Well it’s a good choice,” he drew closer to Yuuri and pointed at the etching at one end of the stick. “These runes mean that if someone strikes it with a sword it won’t break. You have to be careful of your fingers though.” He turned and went to a stack of wooden practice swords. “Don’t take offence, but I’m going to start with this wooden sword.”

But Yuuri just gave him a lopsided smile, and repositioned his hands into a fighting grip.

“Oh I’m not proud enough to think you wouldn’t be able to slice off a few of my fingers,” he said. “I’ve seen your speed.”

Victor was surprised by the compliment, and could feel the way his cheeks had gone slightly hot. He picked up a sword from the stack, spinning it around his hand before catching it to test the weight. Then he rejoined Yuuri in the centre of the room that was clear of equipment.

“Ready?” he asked.

“I don’t think a turned one will ask if I am, but sure.” Yuuri grinned at him, hyped on the thrill of a challenge.

Yuuri’s smile quickly disappeared as Victor struck and he only just managed to deflect it. He lashed out a few more blows, giving Yuuri only enough time to defend himself rather than deal any. He pushed Yuuri backwards gradually until he caught his foot on the base of one of the archery targets and stumbled, blocking Victor’s sword only inches from his face. Yuuri frowned and pushed it away from himself with the stick.

“You’re holding back,” he said, straightening.

“Yes,” replied Victor, also straightening.

“Don’t,” Yuuri said, and dropped back into a combat position.

He struck out with his stick, a blow which glanced off Victor’s practice sword, then Victor ducked under Yuuri’s defence and popped up very close to his face, his sword held against his throat and a hand gripping the base of his skull at the back, preventing Yuuri from moving his head away. Yuuri let in a gasp of surprise.

“This is why I hold back,” he said quietly, staring down into Yuuri’s eyes that had gone wide. This close he could see the flecks of amber amongst the brown. “Even if you master the skill of fighting, you’ll never be as fast as a blane. You need a chance to get used to fighting with a weapon, then I’ll start to hit you.”

Yuuri had gone completely rigid against him. Victor was suddenly aware of Yuuri’s heartbeat, how it thudded through the fast pulse he could feel where his fingers pressed to Yuuri’s neck. How warm Yuuri’s body was against his own. How Yuuri’s lips were slightly parted as he stared up at Victor. He was very pretty.

Victor stepped away from him, his heart beating very fast in his chest. He watched as Yuuri let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Once you take a few blows to the fingers and body you’ll quickly start to learn.” He said, as though he hadn’t been flustered by how close they’d been. “But maybe you should try to hit me, let me see where you leave your defences open.”

Yuuri set his jaw, looking determined. Then he relaxed as he looked over Victor’s shoulder towards the door, just as he turned to look Yuuri flew at him. Victor knocked Yuuri’s stick away with a flick of his sword wrist.

“Nice try,” he said, smiling grimly.

Yuuri bought a series of blows against him. After knocking away one, Victor tapped him lightly on his left side with his sword.

“Dead,” he said.

Yuuri came at him again, and he tapped him on the other side.

“Doubly dead,” Victor remarked, making Yuuri grit his teeth.

He flew at him, jabbing the stick towards Victor’s body and head repeatedly, with a look in his eye as though he really meant to hurt him. It was a moment before Victor realised that he was enjoying himself. It was such a surprise that he almost forgot what they were preparing for.

“Definitely dead. Six feet under. Dead. Very dead. Goner. I’ll tell your children you love them.” Victor kept up this commentary every time he got past Yuuri’s defences, tapping him somewhere on the body.

Eventually Yuuri let out a cry of frustration, and threw the staff down.

“What’s the point?” he exclaimed, but quickly swept down to pick his staff up and came at Victor again, clearly never one to be a quitter.

“Tell you what,” Victor said, deflecting yet another one of Yuuri’s blows. “How about I show you how to position your body? I can see where you’re weak now.”

Yuuri stopped trying to hit him and stood still, his breathing slightly laboured.

“Can’t be any more of a waste of time than this,” he said.

Victor nodded and wandered off to get a combat staff of his own. The one he chose was longer than Yuuri’s to match his height.

“Right, when you lunge out with one end of your staff,” Victor said, returning to where Yuuri stood and positioning himself in a fighting stance. “You want to keep your body covered with the other end, with your arm behind it and ready to flick it out if your opponent tries to get around and strike you there.”

He demonstrated the move, his lunge fast with a lot of power behind it, but none wasted.

Yuuri readied his feet then copied the move. Victor frowned.

“No,” he said, then drew closer to him. “Don’t hit me for doing this, I’m just showing you.”

Victor then very gingerly positioned himself behind Yuuri, placing his hands over Yuuri’s. He felt him go stiff, but continued to try and move his arms slowly through the strike.

“I can’t move you if you’re all stiff like that,” he said, exasperated.

“Well, you’re, y’know, all up in my space.” Yuuri’s voice had gone up an octave.

“Just relax,” Victor said, and tried to ignore the way Yuuri shivered as his breath ghosted over the back of his neck.

Yuuri shook his shoulders out and went slightly looser. Victor tried the move again, this time managing to make Yuuri do it with him. Yuuri’s body was all hard lines against his own.

“See?” he asked gently, showing him through it again. Then he stepped back. “Now try it without me.”

Yuuri’s face had flushed from the exchange, but he made the lunge in slow motion.

“Good, now faster,” Victor directed.

He repeated it with more speed. Victor made him do it a few more times, then nodded.

“Good,” he repeated. Then he proceeded to show him the next move, and was pleased when Yuuri didn’t go stiff in his arms. The smell of vanilla soap from his hair was very present this close up.

After a while he picked up his own staff, and they moved through the routine in slow motion on opposing sides, the clack of their sticks echoing back off the stonewalls.

“One, two, three, four, block. One, two, three, dodge. One, two, three, four, block,” Victor marched out the steps like a chant, each one punctuated by the sound of their sticks connecting. “Good,” he remarked, stopping.

“I’m hearing that from you a lot,” Yuuri said, standing his stick on its end. “You gonna throw me into the field?” he teased.

“Well Lilia’s going to do that for me,” Victor stated, making Yuuri’s smile slip. “Let’s go again.”

After a few hours, Lilia herself came in with a tray, two sandwiches and a jug of water resting on top of it. She gave them a thin lipped smile, and bought the tray over.

“Lunch break,” she said.

Yuuri immediately flopped down to sit on the floor, puffing the some strands of hair away from his forehead.

“How’s he doing?” Lilia asked Victor, handing him the tray.

“He’s doing well,” Victor said, also sitting down on the floor. He placed the tray down and passed a plate to Yuuri, who took it without saying anything and tore into the ham sandwich, chewing with his head down.

“Okay, well make sure he’s ready,” Lilia said as she turned to leave, giving Yuuri a worried look.

Victor tore off a piece of his sandwich, but merely fiddled with it, staring blankly at the sword practice dummy, thinking.

“You don’t eat much do you?” Yuuri commented, his own sandwich already nearly gone.

“I eat,” protested Victor, putting the piece of sandwich in his mouth as though to prove his point.

“You’re such a child,” Yuuri teased, his sandwich now finished as he dusted off his hands.

Yuuri had that playful little smirk on that Victor was starting to notice did funny things to his stomach.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Victor diverted, “I think we should give your whispering a go next.”

Yuuri looked up at him, the humour gone from his face.

“I don’t think you want to do that,” he said, shaking his head. “I can… I can feel it sometimes. I –”

Victor waited, watching Yuuri struggle.

“Now I know what it is it makes sense,” Yuuri said in a rush of air. “The headaches, and like there’s something swelling inside me, ready to break the damn, and I –”

Yuuri cut himself off, his lip twisting anxiously as he stared down at his hands.

“I do want to try,” Victor continued gently. “It’s your best skill, you need to exercise it. We need to try and get a handle on it.”

Yuuri was silent for a few more moments, considering this, then stood.

“Alright,” he said, “but if I kill you don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Victor got to his feet, bringing his sandwich with him, and followed Yuuri back to the middle of the room.

“How strong did you say these walls are?” asked Yuuri, looking around at the windowless grey walls.

“Very,” Victor reassured him.

They both stood there for a moment, Yuuri looking down at the ground, Victor looking at Yuuri and casually munching through his sandwich. A full minute of silence passed.

“Have you forgotten how to do it?” Victor asked, brushing crumbs off his hands.

Yuuri gave an exasperated sigh.

“I almost had it!”

He gave Victor an adorable scowl, all pout, and then faced the floor again.

“I’m just trying to get a handle on it. It feels like it wants to burst out of me.”

Victor remained quiet for the next couple of minutes, watching Yuuri’s bunched shoulders. Then one of the dummies moved. Victor snapped his attention to it, the movement so small he wondered whether it had really happened. Then it moved again, the dummy edging forward towards them by a few more centimetres. He looked at Yuuri, and saw that his hands were curled into fists, his arms clamped tight to his body as it shook slightly. Then Yuuri breathed out, and the dummy dragged itself towards them, coming to a stop in front of Yuuri. Yuuri looked up at it, and then back at Victor, beaming.

“I did it,” he laughed, disbelief in his voice.

Victor nodded, smiling himself.

Then Yuuri’s face went slack.

Victor caught sight of his eyes as they turned completely white, his pupils disappeared altogether before Yuuri’s head dropped limply onto his chest. Victor started forwards, his jaw fixed and ready to put Yuuri to sleep again, but was knocked clean off his feet, his body carried across the room before being slammed into the wall behind him. He slid down it.

Victor groaned and gathered himself into a sitting position. It had been the oddest sensation, not like he had been hit by something, but rather that he had been lifted, as though he were a puppet. He pressed a hand to his ribs, checking for the pain of a fracture as he took in the scene before him.

Yuuri looked like he was being held up by invisible strings, his muscles were relaxed but his legs still kept him standing. The floor had started to shake in a familiar way, a low rumbling coming through the floors and walls.

And Victor was realising that it wasn’t Yuuri’s whispering that he was afraid of, or what it could do to the surrounding area. Suddenly the thought of losing Lillenwyn seemed very small in comparison to losing the man in front of him. And it was that idea that was choking him up, it was that that was making him panic in a way that nothing else every had.

Victor pushed himself back up, wary of making another advance towards Yuuri.

Then the strangest thing happened. Yuuri’s feet left the ground. He rose into the air, his toes hovering a few inches above the floor. Victor stared, dumbstruck by this bizarre sight. Then he jumped slightly as the objects around the room also started to levitate. The air in the room seemed to vibrate with a throbbing, a pressure which made his eyes water as it pressed against his eardrums.

As he watched, hesitating to leap into action, a resounding crack split the air. A fracture appeared in the floor, running from under Yuuri’s feet off over to the wall to his left. Victor stared, aware of how strong the enchantments were upon this room, and a new streak of wonder tinged his fear as he watched how the floor and the objects around Yuuri seemed to bend, almost as though their reality was being tampered with.

Suddenly there was a hammering at the door, but it was held shut by whatever power was forcing itself out of Yuuri. Faint shouts from the other side reached Victor over the thrumming of the air. Yuuri’s body twisted towards this new sound, and Victor saw his chance. He had crossed the distance between them fast enough to be nothing more than a blur, and pulled Yuuri against him. Yuuri’s body went rigid, and there was a crack as the training equipment near them splintered in on itself. Victor took Yuuri’s chin in his hands, forcing his face up towards him. And gods how he wanted to see Yuuri’s brown eyes looking back at him, but it was only those awful white eyes staring blankly, the pink lips slack, body jerking slightly against Victor’s.

“Kwoth nair jahfurlim twen-frock,” Victor repeated the words that had saved the church from falling when they first met, feeling his stomach turn as the wharl within him came under attack.

Nothing happened, and Yuuri shook in his arms. He still looked like Yuuri, with his soft, pretty features, but he was somehow devoid of the boy he’d come to know.

A large splinter from the shattered obstacle course blocks slammed into Victor’s left arm, driving deep. He gritted his teeth, closing his eyes momentarily.

“Kwoth nair jahfurlim twen-frock,” he shouted it this time, bringing all the power of Dur’rum he could summon into those words.

Yuuri went limp in his arms, a sigh escaping him as his eyelids fell shut and his head lolled backwards. The equipment fell to the floor, and two of the merl lights stuttered out.

The door suddenly burst open, free of the power holding it in place, and Mila, Yuri, Yakov, Celestino, and Lilia tumbled into the room. They were greeted by the sight of Victor holding an unconscious Yuuri against him like a rag doll, the equipment around them in pieces and a crack in the previously unbreakable floor.

“By the Gods,” Mila breathed, taking it all in.

Victor bent and scooped Yuuri’s legs up over one of his arms. Yuuri’s head flopped limply back, his arms and legs trailing. Victor crossed over to the door, and the group parted to let him through, some of them staring at the unconscious form of Yuuri, the others gazing at the damage to the weapons room.

“I’m going to take Yuuri to his room. I’ll be watching over him there if you need me,” Victor stated. Then he swept out of the room, cradling Yuuri close to his chest.

 

* * *

 

The sound of Victor’s pencil scratching against the paper was the only sound in the corridor, other than the ticking of some unseen clock. His sketchpad was held open on his knee, as he sat on a chair he’d moved to prop against the wall outside Yuuri’s room.

Lilia came round the corner, carrying a mug of steaming tea and a medical kit towards Victor.

“How’s he doing?” she asked.

“Still asleep, but he seems fine,” he replied.

In Victor’s sketchpad a little charcoal figure stood on the edge of a precipice, a mountain range falling away in the background behind them.

Lilia watched Victor add crosshatched shading to the crag of a rock, and then offered him the mug.        

“Thank you,” Victor closed his pad and took the offered tea. “What are the others doing?”

“The twins are in the artefacts room, and I was just with Yakov in the kitchen,” Lilia said, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall next to Victor.

A low rumbling started from somewhere in the house, making them both incline their heads towards it. Lilia smiled.

“And right on cue, that’ll be Celestino,” she finished.

“He’s fixing the weapon’s room?” Victor asked, sipping his tea.

“Yes. I’ll go watch him work in a moment. He draws runes like he’s composing an orchestra,” she said, still smiling.

“But first you need to let me look at your arm, there could still be splinters in it.” She nodded at the rag that Victor had wrapped sloppily around his wounded bicep. Victor nodded, and let Lilia unwrap the haphazard dressing. “You’re going to need to take your jacket and shirt off.”

Victor slipped the ruined garments off, grimacing as his shirt stuck to the wound slightly. Lilia knelt next to him, opening the medical kit and withdrawing from it a piece of cloth, which was soaked in an antiseptic created in their own lab. She dabbed this against the cut in Victor’s arm as he stared off into space.

“I haven’t been wounded in combat for some time,” he said after a little while, then chuckled to himself.

“Well you’ve never faced a whisperer in combat,” Lilia pointed out. “You’re lucky he didn’t use the wharl within you to turn you into scrambled eggs.”

Victor fell into pensive silence again, apparently unbothered as Lilia used a pair of tweezers to pluck a splinter of wood from his wound.

“I think… I think he was managing to hold some of it back,” he said slowly.

“Well I doubt we’d be here if he hadn’t,” Lilia stated matter of factly. “There’d be another canyon right where the capital of Toarin used to be.” She fell silent as she pulled another splinter out of Victor, and then dabbed at the gash with the cloth again. “You know it’s going to be a problem,” she said.

Victor nodded. “Is that why you think he should go to the wall with us?” he asked.

“Yes,” Lilia replied. “I envisioned him standing in a circle of peace. There was white in his eyes, but he was at one with the power inside him.” Lilia dropped the antiseptic cloth to one side, plucking up a roll of bandage and beginning to wind it around Victor’s arm. “That’s one version of events anyway,” she shrugged. “I also saw him standing before the void, a trail of destruction in his wake.”

“Well that’s cheerful,” Victor said.

Lilia tucked in the end of the bandage, then closed up the medical kit, keeping the used antiseptic cloth separate for disposal. She stood.

“We need a solution,” Lilia said, fixing her serious gaze on Victor. Then her tone lightened, and she smiled. “And I think you might be part of his.”

Before Victor could respond, Lilia stooped, plucked up his bloodied jacket and shirt, and turned to go.

“Don’t worry you can stay there,” she called over her shoulder as she walked away. “I’ll bring you up another shirt.” Then she disappeared round the corner.

Victor sighed and leant his head back against the wall behind him, trying to decide how he felt about the whole situation. There was something dark trying to clamber out from where it hid in this age of light. Victor had always been ready to charge into the darkness head on, but he knew that he wasn’t the answer to this disturbance, and the fact that Yuuri might be made him feel conflicted. He pictured the vision Lilia had described; Yuuri, his back to him, looking so slight and small against the all-consuming jaws of the void.

Victor let out an irritated sigh, and closed his eyes. Then he rose, and turned to the door next to him. He twisted the handle, and peeked inside.

Yuuri’s face was turned away from him where he lay on his back, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of sleep. Something tightened in Victor’s chest. Yuuri’s hand lay across his stomach, and Victor stared at it, amazed that anything so small could wield so much power. The sound of Lilia’s returning footfalls jolted him, and he closed the door, seating himself hurriedly back down in his chair.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels kind of like a filler but ho hum.

When Yuuri entered the kitchen the next morning, it was a hive of activity. The twins had bought a small map down from the artefacts room, showing an enlarged picture of the Fair Palace ruins, and were leant over it having their wordless conversation. Yakov was packing four canvas backpacks with food and water canteens, as Celestino inspected the weapons laid out on the table. Lilia was sitting in one of the armchairs by the empty fireplace, with Victor leant over her shoulder as they both studied the open book on her lap, occasionally making comments to each other or pointing to a passage.

Victor was dressed in his travelling clothes, consisting of a woollen jumper with a high, loose neck, dark trousers, and a pair of laced leather boots. Yuuri found it oddly jarring to see him out of his suit and in this casual attire. He looked up when Yuuri entered, and immediately crossed to him.

“Good, you’re awake,” he said, coming to stand in front of him and giving him a once over with his gaze.

The others stopped what they were doing to look up at Yuuri as he stood in the doorway. Yakov, Lilia, Celestino and Mila all greeted him with good mornings. Yuri eyed him, looking like he’d reevaluated Yuuri’s worth but still didn’t intend on being friendly towards him.

“How do you feel?” Victor asked.

Yuuri tried valiantly not to let Victor’s intense concern colour his cheeks.

“Like I’ve been hit by a carriage,” he replied. “How long was I out?”

“Well it’s seven in the morning now,” Victor replied, “so eighteen hours. We’re leaving soon, so you’ll want to pack a spare set of clothes and anything else you need. Your combat staff is on the table with the other weapons.” He waved a hand behind him.

Yuuri nodded and crossed to the table to pick up a piece of toast. As he drew near, Mila looked up from the map she and her brother were studying and walked over to him. Yuri looked slightly put out by this, but carried on with what he was doing without comment.

“That was really something by the way, what you did yesterday,” Milq gushed as she reached him. She looked like she was ready to take on a bear and conquer a mountain, dressed in a sleeveless fur jacket over a long sleeved green cotton top, a dagger strapped to her thigh over a pair of brown leather trousers similar to the ones Yuuri wore himself. Her vibrant hair was gathered up in a bun, exposing her shaved undercut.

“Do know how strong the enchantments on that room are?” she asked. “I’m honestly surprised Victor isn’t completely mangled right now.”

Yuuri winced at this last comment. He concentrated on buttering his toast.

“Yeah, well fortunately I think I was able to hold back some of it,” Yuuri explained. He took a bite of the toast, waiting to finish chewing before continuing. “That’s why the floor cracked. I remember trying to direct it away from him, so what did escape my grasp hit the floor.”

It was unnerving being able to remember more of what happened once he lost control. It was like something that had been pulled taught inside him finally snapped, and in the resultant confusing rush there was only one thought; consume.

“Gods,” Mila said, looking at Yuuri with even more respect. “Would hate to see what happened if you lost your grasp on it.”

Yuuri pulled a face. “You and me both.” Then he turned to leave the kitchen again, leaving Mila to return to her brother.

As Yuuri approached the door, Victor detached himself from the wall that he’d been leaning against, watching Yuuri and Mila’s exchange. He fell into step with Yuuri as he left the room.

“I’m sorry for knocking you out,” he said as they passed the oil painting of the ship.

Yuuri looked at him, surprised. “If you hadn’t I don’t think we’d be here to have this conversation, Victor. I was only just hanging onto the… the whispering.”

Victor raised his eyebrows at him, looking somewhat pleased to hear Yuuri address his abilities as The True did. They went on for a way in silence, reaching the great staircase before Victor spoke up.

“What does it feel like?” he asked, as they mounted the first few steps.

Yuuri was quiet for a moment, considering this.

“Like standing in the sea in front of a wave, and trying to stop it from hitting you with just your hands,” he said, surprised at how accurate this analogy was.

“Well you must have some pretty big hands because all you did was break some exercise equipment,” Victor returned.

“And make a crack in a supposedly unbreakable enchanted floor,” Yuuri countered as they turned onto the corridor leading to her bedroom.

“But I’m still here,” Victor smiled, “and I’m certainly not unbreakable. In fact I’m really rather squishy by comparison.”

They reached Yuuri’s room and he let himself in. Victor leant against the door jam as Yuuri went to the wardrobe, rooting past the suits to where Lilia had hung some travelling clothes; tough leather trousers, warm furs, and treated animal skins. He pulled out a jacket that had been waxed to make the material waterproof, and pulled it over his shirt, taking an extra pair of trousers, a shirt, one of the furs, and some underwear out. Yuuri was careful to conceal the under garments between his other clothes before turning back to face the bed, very aware of Victor in the doorway.

“Is there anything you want from the church?” Victor asked.

Yuuri placed his spare outfit on the bed, and then went into the bathroom to wrap a piece of soap in paper.

“There’s not really anything of value there,” he called back to him, grabbing his toothbrush. “Apart from my books maybe, but we’re not going to take them on a trip like this,” Yuuri said as he came back into the room.

He placed the toiletries on top of his clothes, and turned to pick up a little comb off the dressing table, leaving the heavy silver-backed hairbrush where it was. There was a pause as Yuuri bustled around the room, checking if there was anything else he needed.

“You know I won’t let anything happen to you, right?” Victor said. His voice was quiet and serious.

Yuuri looked up at him. He was still leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Yuuri. Yuuri looked back down.

“I know,” he said. “But if we get into trouble and I get scared… it might not be the turned ones you have to defend yourself against.”

A shadow fell across the pile of belongings Yuuri was fussing over, and he looked up. Victor had come to stand in front of him. He reached over and took one of Yuuri’s hands in his.

“Yuuri I need you to know that you have my word,” his quiet voice was very serious. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll knock you out if I have to.” He gave him a small smile.

Yuuri nodded, attempting to control the surprised expression that had appeared on his face when Victor took his hand. It was warm in his own, and Victor’s expression was so sincere, his blue eyes searching Yuuri’s from under that fall of silver hair. Yuuri’s chest and neck felt hot.

“Funnily enough, I trust you,” he managed to say in a serene voice, trying to ignore the funny swooping feeling in his stomach.

This made Victor smile with such a genuine look of happiness in his eyes that Yuuri was taken aback. It was like watching ice cracking for the spring thaw.

Victor dropped his hand, and turned back to the door.

“I’ll let you finish packing,” he said, and left the room.

Yuuri stood there next to the bed for a little while, wondering what had just happened. He pressed a hand to his heart, feeling the slightly erratic thumping.

“Stop it,” he told himself firmly.

After a moment he realised that he didn’t need to pack anything else, and after he was sure that Victor had vacated the hallway beyond, he gathered his things and left the bedroom.

Back in the kitchen, Mila was strapping her bow and arrows to her back with Yuri’s help, whose short swords were back in the belt looped around his hips. The long, slim sword that Yuuri had first seen Victor wearing was back in its place by his side, and Yakov was fastening up the bags.

“It’s lighter than your last one,” Celestino was saying to Mila, talking about the bow he’d made her. “So it should be easier to carry, but it’s no less powerful.”

“Thank you, Ciao Ciao, it’s beautiful.” Mila smiled at the smith, and Yuuri thought it was the kind of smile that men would bend over backwards for.

Mila was right though; the bow was beautiful, painted a dark green that looked black from a distance. Its wood was carved into swirls either side of the grip, curving back to the string with a series of runes etched into it, so delicately applied that they looked more for decorative purposes rather than functionality.

Yakov approached Yuuri, holding out the leather rucksack assigned to him, a sleeping sack strapped to the flap holding it shut.

“Thank you,” Yuuri said, taking it from him.

“There’s enough food in there to last you a few days, but you’ll need to stop at the tavern and pick up some more supplies. I didn’t want to weigh you all down like packhorses,” Yakov said, watching as Yuuri pushed his things in on top of the supplies.

Yuuri thanked him again, then crossed to the table and plucked up his combat staff. He tied it into place on his pack with a strip of material, usually used for attaching a canteen to the outside, and slung the rucksack over his shoulders, so the staff lay diagonally across his back between him and the pack. After a moment of looking at the other weapons, he also picked up a sheathed dagger, kneeling to tuck it into his leather riding boot.

Celestino made his way over to Yuuri.

“Here,” he said, and gave Yuuri a couple of sets of glasses. “Try each on and see what feels better.”

“Oh wow, thanks Celestino,” Yuuri said, taking the glasses reverently.

They were circular with thin wire frames. After trying each pair on, Yuuri decided that the second pair helped things come into best focus and kept them.

“This is great,” he murmured, looking around the room, taking in all the little details he could now see.

“Glad you like them,” Celestino said, looking pleased by Yuuri’s enthusiasm.

Yuuri thanked Celestino again before the smith retreated to the fireside.

Yuri was folding the map away when the sound of a bell rang through the house. Everyone looked up.

“Who – I didn’t see anyone coming,” Lilia said, frowning in the direction of the hall.

“I’ll get it,” Mila said, and took off towards the front door.

It didn’t take long before the sounds of a commotion were heard by all of them.

Victor left the room so fast that he was just a blur. Yuuri hurried after him, the sound of Mila’s voice and another’s getting louder as he ran down the corridor.

“Where is he? Let me _go_ , ow, good gods woman what do you eat? How are you so – _ow!_ ”

It can’t be, Yuuri thought, eyes going wide as he picked up his pace and ran around the last corner into the front hall.

Phichit Chulanont was pinned to wall by Mila, straining to get away from her and see further into the house. Victor was standing watching this, frowning but also looking like he was trying not to laugh. Then Phichit caught sight of Yuuri.

“Yuuri!” Phichit cried, relief breaking across his face as he redoubled his efforts to release himself.

Mila frowned and dropped him, leaving Phichit free to fling himself across the space between him and Yuuri.

“Oof,” Yuuri huffed as his best friend collided with him.

“Oh my gods are you okay?” Phichit asked, leaning back and taking Yuuri’s face in his hands. “I saw the church, what happened? Who _are_ these people? I was going to bring Cao Bin’s lot but there wasn’t time, are you –”

“Phichit, slow down,” Yuuri cut across him, taking his friend’s hands in his own, unable to suppress the grin that had broken over his face. “I’m fine, these people are fine.”

“Oh _are_ they?” Phichit asked skeptically, rounding on Mila, Victor, and Yuri, Lilia, Yakov and Celestino, who had all come to see what all the noise was. “Why wasn’t I allowed to see you then? What happened to the church? And what kind of cryptic bullshit was that letter you sent me?”

He directed the last to Yuuri, along with a sharp elbow to the ribs.

“‘ _I’m fine but can’t explain where I’ve gone right now, will tell you everything when I’m back_ ?’” Phichit repeated from the letter Yuuri had sent him. “What was I _supposed_ to think, Yuuri?”

Yuri snorted and even Lilia looked like she was having a hard time not finding this firey little man sassing Yuuri funny.

“That I was okay and I’d explain it all to you like I said?” Yuuri said hopefully.

Phichit scowled at him. Then he turned back to The True, his gaze picking over them.

“You,” he said, pointing to Victor, who looked mildly surprised. “Tall pretty one. Who are you lot? Why do you have Yuuri?”

“We don’t _have_ him,” Yuri butted in, glaring at Phichit. “He’s more than welcome to go away at any time.”

“Okay spicy bean then tell me what is going on,” Phichit said, turning his attention to Yuri, who flushed with anger at being addressed so. “Why is Yuuri here?”

Yuuri took Phichit’s hand in his own, drawing his attention back to him.

“It’s kind of a long story,” he said, imploring his friend to understand. “And we don’t really have time to explain. We have to go, I’m… I’m leaving Lillenwyn for a bit.”

“Leaving?” Phichit repeated, his usually cheerful face creased with concern. “To go where?”

“That’s sort of a long story too,” Yuuri said apologetically.

“Right, well then,” Phichit said, looking as though he’d firmly made his mind up. “I’m coming too then aren’t I?”

“What? Phichit, no,” Yuuri said, alarmed at this turn of events as Phichit turned and started inspecting the hallway they were in with great interest. “You can’t come.”

“And how exactly are you going to stop me, Yuuri Katsuki?” Phichit asked, arching an eyebrow at Yuuri.

Yuuri felt a fond exasperation for his friend. It was very nice to have Phichit with him after all the craziness. But he _couldn’t_ come with them.

Then Victor stepped forward.

“The mission we are going on is dangerous,” he said, fixing Phichit with a critical eye. “It would not do for us to bring a civilian.”

Phichit snorted, arching an eyebrow to devastating effect.

“I’m hardly a civilian,” he replied coolly, cocking his hip and placing a hand on it. “And if Yuuri’s going then why can’t I? We’re the same.”

“Phichit,” Yuuri started, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No Yuuri, I’m coming,” Phichit said, with such an air of finality that Yuuri actually shut up.

Victor turned to Lilia, who was considering Phichit silently.

“Lilia?” Victor said, motioning to Phichit. “Did you see anything about him coming?”

Lilia was slow to reply, still eyeing Phichit.

“No,” she said eventually, and her gaze was as cool and critically analyzing as ever when it came to rest of Victor. “But he might help stabilize Yuuri.”

“Of course I’ll stabilize Yuuri,” Phichit said tartly. “I’ve been doing that for eight years.”

Lilia’s eyes darted back to Phichit. She smirked.

“Not in that way,” Lilia replied. “Although you’ll no doubt help with that too.”

“Great, so it’s decided,” Phichit said, clapping his hands briskly before taking off down the hall, dragging Yuuri along with him.

“So what is this place?” Phichit asked, eyes taking in the rich mahogany panelling, the fine paintings and luxurious furniture. “That paneling is lush, oh my gods look at the gilding.”

“It’s the house of The True,” Yuuri sighed, resigning himself to retelling Phichit the whole mad story.

By the time he was finished, they were back in the kitchen and Yakov was gathering a pack for Phichit to take with him on their journey. The other members of The True had left Yuuri and Phichit to their own devices, and Yuuri was being peppered by Phichit’s questions and appropriately timed gasps of amazement. Surprisingly, Phichit believed the whole thing much quicker than Yuuri had.

“This is so cool,” he squealed, grasping Yuuri’s hands where they sat straddling the bench at the table to face each other. “So that’s what happened in the alleyway? When you went all weird and white eyed and I had to slap you?”

“You slapped me?” Yuuri asked, not remembering this detail from their narrow escape a year ago.

“Yeah you started having a fit or something and your eyes went white and freaky, so I slapped you,” Phichit said, beaming as though everything Yuuri had told him was the best possible outcome.

“I don’t remember the slapping,” Yuuri said, frowning. “But it probably stopped me from going full blown and destroying everything. It’s harder now. Victor’s had to knock me out a couple of times.”

Phichit’s expression changed to a sly smirk. Yuuri eyed it suspiciously as Phichit raised his eyebrows at him.

“Victor, eh?” he said knowingly, and Yuuri had a horrible inkling to what Phichit was implying. “He the tall silver fox?”

“Phichit,” Yuuri hissed, throwing a worried look over his shoulder to where Victor was consulting a map with Yuri.

“What?” Phichit asked innocently, still smirking. “He’s pretty.”

“Just, ugh, shut up, it’s not like that,” Yuuri said, rubbing his eyes hard enough to see spots.

“Of course it’s not,” Phichit said coyly, and Yuuri fought the urge to pinch him.

“How did you even find me?” Yuuri asked, changing the subject as quickly as possible.

Phichit gave him an unimpressed look.

“Yuuri I have an army of tricky little shits at my disposal,” Phichit said, with nothing but fondness for the children. “And you sent a courier with a vague note telling me not to worry and left the church in a complete mess.”

Yuuri nodded, already feeling exhausted with the day and they hadn’t even set off yet.

“Okay,” he sighed, before peering at Phichit. “How about you, are you okay? How much did Chris give you for the mask?”

“Plenty,” Phichit said happily, straightening as he reached inside his waistcoat and drew out a coin purse. “Which reminds me, this is yours.”

He tossed the purse to Yuuri, who caught it and weighed its contents appreciatively.

“Good,” he agreed, and stowed the purse inside the thick coat he was wearing.

At that point Yakov joined them. He hoisted a pack unceremoniously into Phichit’s arms, who let out a startled noise and scrambled to hold it.

“There’s your supplies,” Yakov said gruffly. “It’s just food, you’ll have to get your own clothes.”

“That’s alright, I’ll borrow Yuuri’s,” Phichit said happily, peering inside the pack.

“I do actually have more upstairs,” Yuuri told him. “I’ll show you.”

By the time they’d fetched the clothes and returned downstairs, everyone was waiting by the back door leading out to the stables. Phichit and Yuuri joined them and Lilia spoke up.

“Well you’re all ready,” she said. “It’s going to be a trying journey, but I’m sure that’s the least of your worries.” She looked at each of them in turn, as though taking a moment to memorise their faces. “Look after each other. We will protect the city in your absence, and you can rest assured we will fair fine. Now get on and go whilst it’s still early.”

She waved them off, turning away as she did.

The departing group hugged Yakov and Celestino goodbye, leaving Lilia alone as she clearly wished to be. Only Victor stepped up and placed a hand gently on her shoulder for a moment, but the woman didn’t turn around. Just before he reached the door, Celestino caught Yuuri’s wrist.

“Be careful, my boy,” he said, taking both of Yuuri’s hands in his large ones. “Victor is your best ally, stick close to him,” he advised, looking down at Yuuri with worry in his eyes. Then he lowered his voice. “And just so you know, he smiles a lot more since you showed up.”

Then he dropped Yuuri’s hands, turning to wish the others goodbye and leaving him standing there dumbstruck. Yuuri blinked a couple of times, unsure how to process this information and trying his best not to let it put any butterflies in his stomach.

Yuuri shook his head and turned back to the door, hurrying to catch up to the others as they made their way to the stables.

The stables were a modest but sturdy little building at the back of The True’s headquarters. Yuuri had noticed that it was where Yakov could usually be found if he wasn’t in the kitchen, although he hadn’t been inside them himself.

The smell of hay hit him when they entered, and he immediately felt safe in the rustic rawness of the building. The two shutters that sat in the right wall of the stables had been left open, so the soft autumn sunshine illuminated the dusty air. Stalls lined the left side of the room, a walkway running down the right, and their inhabitants came to nose out at their visitors. Six pairs of eyes blinked slowly at Yuuri, a gentle whinnying coming from some of the beasts.

Victor crossed to a tall black horse in the stall closest to them, picking up a discarded sackcloth bag as he went.

“Hello, Hekai,” he said affectionately, “yes hello, girl, I can see you.”

He patted the horse’s neck and let her nuzzle into his shoulder as he dug in the bag, producing an apple to feed to Hekai. Phichit nudged Yuuri, who suddenly realised he’d been watching this exchange with a fond expression. Yuuri coughed and ignored Phichit’s smirk.

The twins crossed to their own horses, a chestnut mare for Mila and a grey stallion for Yuri, who had arrived with them the day before. The siblings busied themselves with putting on the horses’ saddles and tightening their straps.

Yuuri and Phichit stood awkwardly by the door, watching as The True greeted their horses. Victor noticed them after a few moments and stepped away from Hekei, beckoning them to join him.

“That’s Larch,” he explained as they passed the pale steed of Yuri’s, “and that’s Den.” He pointed to the hazel mare nudging Mila with its nose.

Yuuri and Phichit followed him past the others to the two stalls at the far end. Another black stallion was blinking curiously at them from one stall, whilst a sorrel coloured mare eyed them suspiciously from the other.

“This Falcon and Jayik,” Victor said, pointing to the stallion and then the mare. “Phichit you take Falcon, I reckon he’ll suit you.”

Phichit happily let himself into the stall of the black horse, who nosed around him with interest, making Phichit giggle as the horse mouthed at his shoulders.

Victor approached the sorrell mare to stroke her nose. Jayik let him, but when Yuuri came closer she pulled away, flicking her head back with a snort. “You two should get along well, you both have trust issues.”

Yuuri shot him a withering look and crossed his arms, his shoulders bunched up.

“I haven’t ridden a horse since I was a child,” he said doubtfully, taking in the straw covered floor and the various brushes and tools on the shelves of the stall.

“It’ll come to you,” Victor shrugged. “Let her smell the back of your hand, see you’re not a threat.”

Yuuri stepped forward obediently. Jayik took one step back, raising her head to look defiantly down at the unwelcome stranger.

“Slowly now,” Victor murmured, reaching to stroke the horse’s neck.

Yuuri obliged, cautiously taking another step, his chin lowered in submission. Jayik snorted, turning her head away to regard Yuuri with one dark, wary eye, but stayed where she was.

Yuuri could feel his heart in his chest, and breathed out slowly. Closing his eyes, his head still lowered, he tentatively offered his hand.

There was a moment when nothing happened, when all Yuuri could feel was the heat behind his eyelids and the warm breath of the horse on his hand. Then he felt Jayik’s rough lips, nuzzling his hand, investigating it, before butting it lightly with her nose.

Yuuri opened his eyes and looked up, to see the horse had moved closer to him. The mare wasn’t looking at him, as though she’d deigned her new acquaintance worthy of her trust but not her regard.

“Nicely done,” Victor said, regarding the pair with a little smile curling his lips.

Yuuri flushed and tried to ignore the warmth in Victor’s gaze. But Victor was already turning away and lifting a saddle from where it hung on the wall.

“I would say Jayik will serve you well, but Jayik’s not inclined to serve anyone. She will be a good steed though,” Victor said with a shrug.

He hoisted the saddle onto Jayik’s back and set about fixing the straps before he fetched the reigns.

“Oh yes, I imagine you’re far too proud to be at someone’s beck and call, aren’t you girl?” Yuuri raised an eyebrow at the horse, who gave him a lazy blink in return.

“You can fix your pack to her here.” Victor pointed to the saddlebags that he’d fixed above Jayik’s hips. “It’ll get heavy otherwise.”

“What are you two _doing_?” Mila asked from the door off their stall, where she stood holding Den’s reigns.

“Getting acquainted,” returned Victor, before passing Jayik’s reigns to Yuuri.

The mare let a wary Yuuri lead her out of the stall; her proud head raised high.

“Do you need assistance getting in the saddle?” The formality had returned to Victor’s voice, and Yuuri’s face coloured.

He shook his head, wishing he could outright refuse him, but not entirely trusting himself not to get an injury.

“Just… stay there in case I fall off,” Yuuri muttered, before dropping his pack and turning to the horse.

Just like climbing a wall, he thought to himself. And he’d done more than enough wall scaling.

The leather of the saddle was smooth in Yuuri’s hands, and he could feel the heat of the Jayik’s flank as he placed his left foot in the stirrup. Yuuri took a deep breath, before hoisting himself up and throwing his right leg over the horse’s back.

“Woo!” Mila exclaimed, clapping as Yuuri let out a sigh of relief.

“Are you lot finished?” Yuri drawled, already sat atop Larch, his posture languid as though he were about to lie back and have a kip right there in the saddle.

Victor attached Yuuri’s pack behind his saddle, giving Jayik a pat on the neck before returning to his own horse. He swung gracefully up into the saddle as though it were as easy as placing himself in an armchair, before looking back at them.

“Okay, let’s go,” he said, before turning to the open stable door.

 

* * *

 

 When the structure and order of Lillenwyn fell away, the group of travelers was engulfed by farmland. It was late in the afternoon, a large portion of the day having been spent making their way out of the city. The ground started to rise and fall in gentle hills, fields stretching out either side of them, punctuated by cows, sheep, and pigs, with the occasional thatched roofed farmhouse sliding past them. The road they were on was wide, it being the main passage into the capital, and they headed against the flow of people making their way into Lillenwyn. The passersby ranged from beautifully robed merchants with bolts of cloth, to famers sat on horse drawn carriages full of hay or vegetables.

Yuuri rode beside Phichit, something coming unstuck inside his chest with every easy joke his friend made. He could feel himself shirking off the hard shell he’d been wearing in the house of The True, less on edge in his friend’s presence. Victor slowed to ride on the other side of Yuuri.

“How are you doing?” Victor asked him.

“Oh I’m fine,” Phichit cut in, flashing a grin at Victor. “Very comfy.”

Yuuri tried to suppress the kneejerk giggle that nearly bubbled out of him.

“Good,” Victor said, quirking a lazy smile at Phichit which would have men and women swooning.

They rode on with Phichit chattering away for a while, the autumn sunshine pleasantly warm against the encroaching chill in the air. The further they got from Lillenwyn, the less people they passed, until eventually the five of them were the only ones left on the road. At this point Mila fell back to ride on the other beside, leaving Yuri to forge on ahead.

“So Yuuri, are you gonna try your whispering thing again? Because I think that was pretty cool,” Mila asked, looking completely at home in the saddle, as opposed to Yuuri who was getting somewhat uncomfortable.

“I don’t know, last time I tried I nearly killed Victor,” Yuuri said, keeping her eyes down, concentrating on steering Jayik.

“I’ll just put you to sleep again,” Victor shrugged, as though it were nothing.

“Saucy,” Phichit said, loud enough for only Yuuri to hear.

“Yeah what is that?” Yuuri asked, pointedly ignoring Phichit.

“It’s the language of Dur’rum,” Victor explained. “It’s spoken by the Gods and was used to create all things, pretty powerful stuff when used right. We’re only able to utilise a fraction of its true power, what with being mortal and all.”

Yuuri turned to Mila. “You speak it?” he asked.

“We all do,” said Mila. “It’s part of being descended from Dur’rum, and is essential in our defence of this world. But it’s not as simple as saying the words. They have to have power and intent behind them.”

“Why don’t you live in the house with the other members of The True?” Yuuri asked.

Mila laughed, and grinned at Victor. “Because they’re soft, they have it too easy,” she said. “We live out in the wild areas, defending villages from the dunner that roam there. The headquarters are in Lillenwyn from a time when the city was under threat from the dur’ron entering it, but none dare go near the capital now. Well, until recently.”

Yuuri glanced at Victor to see how he was reacting to these jibes, but he was staring ahead.

“What’s it like to have your brother in your head all the time?” Yuuri pressed Mila.

“My you are full of questions today.” The girl twin flicked a strand of hair from her eyes. She tilted her head to one side, staring thoughtfully ahead at her brother’s back. “It’s comforting actually, we know everything about each other, and he’ll always be there to catch me… Plus I can push him out when I want to. Would be weird to have him in there for… some things… he’s not even listening at the moment, busy thinking about…” Mila shrugged as she read Yuri’s thoughts, “stupid stuff.”

Yuuri laughed at this, then fell quiet, wondering what it would be like to have a brother or a sister.

“He’ll come round to liking you by the way,” Mila said after a little while. “Yuri’s just… he feels he has to wear this tough exterior all the time. Our parents enforced it from when we were young. They also used to be members of The True, retired now though — oh wait, yeah he heard that and told me to tell you that’s none of your business.”

Yuuri stared at Mila, marveling at the way she let her brother’s thoughts interrupt their conversation as though it was nothing. Then he looked at Yuri, who hadn’t turned around or given any sign of this exchange.

Yuuri wasn’t sure why the twins’ connection upset him in that moment. Maybe it was the family of warriors they’d come from, grasping desperately to each other as each generation lead their sons and daughters to danger. Or maybe it was that he just didn’t have his own real family.

Their ride wore on for hours, the landscape not changing much as the sun moved across the sky, until it sunk to the horizon, bleeding colour into the clouds. By the time night fell, Yuuri’s backside was an odd paradox of numbness and pain, and his shoulders ached from holding them so stiff for so long. They had only stopped once in order to eat lunch, sitting in a field at the side of the road, and now he was ready to curl up in his sleeping sack and pass out. They stopped under a clump of elm trees, and Yuuri almost fell off Jayik’s back he was so exhausted. Victor had already dismounted and was in the process of removing Hekei’s saddle. Yuuri followed his lead, throwing the saddle, his pack and the reigns next to his on the ground. Phichit was busy fussing and cooing over Falcon.

“Do we need to tie them up or anything?” Yuuri asked, looking around at the field, its grass rippling in the mellow dusk light.

Victor shook his head. “They won’t wander far,” he assured him, throwing his pack down and immediately heading off to find firewood.

The twins unrolled their sleeping sacks, and set about preparing dinner, refusing Yuuri’s offer to help.

He flopped down on the grass, relieved to relax the position he’d been holding all day, and Phichit joined him. Yuuri watched the twins work for a moment, then decided Victor probably needed help collecting wood.

“I’m going to go help Victor,” Yuuri told Phichit, getting stiffly to his feet again.

“Bet you are,” Phichit shot back, grinning at him from where he lay sprawled on the floor. “Well you know where to find me.”

Yuuri gave the epitome of witty comebacks by sticking his tongue out, and headed off into the trees.

There was something oddly calming about being amongst the dark trunks. It was eerie, but Yuuri found walking between the trees was like being among very wise old beings, and with the lack of the daylight, with all its hustle and bustle, there came a quiet calm that was made for saying secret things. He stooped again and again until he could carry no more, then stood to catch his breath, listening to the whisper of leaves for a moment before he turned back.

When Yuuri returned with his arms full of wood, Victor was piling his logs into a stack for the fire, poking dry leaves into the gaps for kindling. Yuuri placed his armful next to him, ready to top up the supply if needed. When he seemed satisfied with the pile, Victor simply flicked his wrist and a flame leapt up the dry leaves, biting into the wood around it. Phichit whooped and clapped at this.

Yuuri took a step back, his gaze jumping from the fire to each member of the strange group that he had somehow ended up with. He noticed how one of the twins would occasionally murmur in agreement in answer to some unheard comment the other had made.

Yuuri came forward as the others settled themselves around the growing warmth, using his sleeping sack as a blanket against the cool night air. Mila had dug two metal prongs into the ground, which propped up a bar to hang a pot over the fire, and she stirred this, occasionally tasting it and adding seasoning from the little bags she had stored away.

“I can’t believe you bought spices,” Yuri rolled his eyes.

“Well you can have plain stew if that’s how you feel,” Mila retorted.

Yuuri was looking at a distant speck of light from a farmhouse, its smoke rising dark against the navy sky. The stars were starting to appear, more of them revealing themselves as the sky darkened, like flour scattered on a slate chopping board.

“Have any of you ever been to the wall of Naiyan?” Yuuri asked, turning back to the group.

They all shook their heads in response.

“Unless there’s a real need to go, it’s not worth the risk of facing the turned,” Victor said, his legs crossed and his back very straight. He was staring into the fire, the flames reflecting in his eyes and adding warmth to the usual coldness of his pale hair.

“Honestly though, I reckon we can get past them if we’re quiet enough,” Yuri shrugged.

“You are such a tit, Yuri,” Mila said, flicking stew juices at her brother with the spoon, then addressing Yuuri. “The turned ones aren’t like fighting a tryith or a crayn beast, not to belittle your recent achievement, Victor,” she said in an aside to him, who raised a hand to show no offence had been taken. “They’re clever and strong, not to mention fast. In fact Victor’s probably the only one of us that can outmaneuver them with his speed, Yuri and I will have to rely on our combined strength. And you and Phichit… you’ll just have to stick close,” she finished, looking unsure.

“Sounds fun,” Phichit said cheerfully.

“I wouldn’t worry about me getting killed by one of those things,” Yuuri said. “If one of them corners me I’ll be the one you guys have to worry about.”

“Not if it splits your gut open with its talons before you can react,” Yuri put in.

“Okay,” Victor said. “Let’s move on.”

“Yes dinner is ready anyway,” Mila said, waving for them to bring over the metal bowls they’d packed.

Yuuri tried to picture what the turned ones looked like, immediately envisioning something with fangs and claws, and he wondered if they really could get to him before his whispering got to them. Then realised neither option seemed promising, and tucked into to Mila’s soup for a distraction.

When they all settled down for the night, Yuuri lay looking up at the branches above him, listening to an owl and its mate hoot to each other somewhere in the trees. There was something about being in the outdoors, the vastness of it all that took his breath away. He was sore from the saddle and headed on a dangerous mission, but there was a certain solidarity he felt in the people around him. Victor’s voice came back to him in the dark, the ghost of his hand in his own. “ _You know I won’t let anything happen to you, right?”_

Yuuri fell asleep quickly, not stirring until dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAMSTER SON


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't update yesterday, had a long weekend in Scotland!

In the morning Yuuri woke to find Victor gone, his sleeping sack already rolled up and strapped to the top of his bag. The twins and Phichit were still asleep, Yuri with his back to him, and Mila with her hair falling over her face. Meanwhile Phichit was doing a very good impression of a starfish in a bedroll.

Yuuri climbed out of his sack and got up to stretch. He looked around for the horses and found that sure enough they had not gone far in the night. He dug around in his pack finding his water canteen, drinking from it deeply whilst he pulled out a sack of roasted nuts, pausing his gulps to throw a couple of handfuls into his mouth.

After a few moments of sitting there, wondering whether or not he should wake the others, Victor emerged from the trees, his hair dripping.

“I found a well if you want to have a wash,” he said. “It’s just on the other side of these trees. I’ll tell the others to wait whilst you use it.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri said gratefully, glad he wouldn’t have to get back in the saddle with yesterday still clinging to him, and retrieved a fresh shirt from his pack before standing up.

Victor pointed out the direction of the well as he stamped out the embers of the fire.

Yuuri made his way through the trees, twigs snapping underfoot as he wove between the brambles and bushes. Bird song filled the branches overhead, and Yuuri wondered what time it was, knowing that it was probably still early, the sun barely up over the horizon. The leaves had just begun to turn, their edges yellowing as though dipped in paint.

Eventually he reached a low stone wall, and saw the well on the other side of it. The trees ended at the wall as a farmer’s field opened out before him, and Yuuri was grateful for the presence of some bushes he could safely wash behind. Beyond the bushes the field rolled down a hill into a valley, full of swaying golden corn, ready for the harvest.

Yuuri crossed to the wall and climbed over it, coming to stand in front of the well. The bucket that sat on its edge was still wet from Victor’s use, and he quickly set about collecting his own water, relieved by the minimal amount of leaves and dirt that had found their way into it. After he was clean, Yuuri gave his shirt from the day before a quick scrub before donning the fresh one and brushing his teeth.

When Yuuri returned to camp a little while later, the twins and Phichit were awake, Mila sitting upright, her sleeping sack pulled up to her shoulders, and Yuri was rolling up his bedroll. Phichit sat bleary eyed on top of his.

“It’s early,” Phichit croaked, squinting at the sky.

“There’s a well that Victor found back there. It will make you feel better to have a wash,” Yuuri said helpfully.

Phichit left for the well with minimal grumbling. Yuuri packed up his items then sat down next to Victor on a large log next to the now dead fire. Mila looked like she wasn’t properly awake yet, her eyelids drooping and face slack.

“Did you sleep well?” Victor asked Yuuri, taking a swig from his canteen.

“Very well. But then I’m used to a lack of a feather mattress.” He smiled at Victor to show he was joking. “Yourself?”

“Yeah it was alright, cold though,” Victor replied.

When Phichit returned shortly after, Mila stood and took herself off to get washed, and Yuri went after her. By the time they got back onto the road the sun had risen a little higher and it looked to be a pleasant day.

Yuuri found that his shoulders and backside got uncomfortable a lot quicker than yesterday, only having to go a short distance before he started wriggling around in the saddle.

“Would you be offended if I offered to walk with you for a while?” Victor asked, seeing his discomfort.

Yuuri laughed, finding his offer surprisingly endearing rather than annoying.

“No, but I’m fine, I’m sure my backside will get used to it after awhile,” he said.

Victor looked momentarily at a loss for what to say, his mouth opening then closing again. Yuuri grinned, amused by his embarrassment and only slightly flushed himself. He could handle this better than the way Victor looked at him sometimes.

“Have you been on long journeys like this before?” Yuuri asked, sensing that Victor, with all his proper manners, needed a new subject. He watched the hedgerow pass and resisted the urge to stretch a foot out to brush it, knowing he’d probably lose his balance.

“Oh yes, all sorts. There’s always some voyage a hero like me needs to embark on.” Victor grinned as Yuuri laughed, and he found himself surprised to discover how easy it was to laugh with Victor. Phichit shot a grin over his shoulder at the pair of them.

They fell silent, eyelids heavy against the sun as they watched the fields roll past, the occasional patch of late blooming wildflowers adding splashes of colour to the gold of the corn.

“We should reach the mountains tomorrow,” Victor said, breaking the silence. “Have you ever been in the mountains?”

“Never,” Yuuri replied. “My parent’s tavern was outside of the city though. But I’ve never really returned to the countryside since.”

“Is it hard? Stealing for a living?” Victor asked.

Yuuri was surprised by the question and took a moment to think about it.

“Most of the time, yes,” Yuuri replied, his voice light as though they were discussing a regular career. “But Phichit’s made it easier, and I like being able to help the kids on Endria Street.”

“Who are the kids on Endria Street?” Victor pressed, and Yuuri could feel the intensity of his gaze on his profile, knew that Victor was pleased to find this thread into Yuuri finding out more about him and intended to pull on it.

“Just some street kids.” Yuuri replied, then laughed. “Sorry you probably guessed that. They help out with the jobs Phichit and I do and they get a cut of the rewards. Most of them are still underfed though.”

There was a pause as they concentrated on riding. The path had gotten narrow, the fields encroaching onto it as it turned from stone to dirt, the wildflowers more abundant here.

“Do you think you’ll stay with us when we get back?” Victor asked after a little while.

His voice was quiet and Yuuri wasn’t sure if he was imagining the hopeful tone in it. He glanced over. Victor wasn’t looking at him, but ahead at the winding path, his hands relaxed in their hold of the reigns.

“I don’t know,” he said after a few moments. “If I did, I’d need to help the Endria kids somehow. I don’t think I could just leave them.”

“Well just so you know, the offers always there.”

Yuuri squinted at him, scrutinising Victor’s expression. He was still staring ahead at the road.

“Thank you,” Yuuri said. “It’s nice to be offered a home.”

Victor looked up and gave him that slight smile of his.

As the day wore on Yuuri found himself to be struggling, but refused to make any complaints. The others strove on ahead, seeming to never tire. He was glad that the heat of summer was over. There was no shade on the road and the sun was a welcome warmth. The fields continued in gentle rolls, farmlands still the only view available, the cornfields rippling in the breeze like seaweed in a current.

After a while, Yuuri noticed that they were heading uphill much more than they were heading back down.

“There,” Victor said, his silver hair brilliant under the sun as he pointed towards the horizon.

Yuuri shielded his eyes, helping him make out the jagged shapes of the mountains, a mix of purples and greys, slumbering giants with their blankets of clouds.

After that the day passed much as the one before, the five of them trekking doggedly onwards. Sometimes chatting, stopping twice for breaks. They found a stream at one point, and Yuuri, Mila and Phichit removed their shoes and socks to paddle in it, whilst Victor and Yuri watched from the bank and the horses lowered their heads to drink. It was cold from its origins in the mountains, and Phichit made a point of kicking it up at Yuuri, making him squark and scramble back up the bank.

Yuuri was quickly warming to Mila. Even though the beautiful girl had been slightly intimidating when they’d first met, she had since been friendly. Her brother on the other hand continued to be sulky and removed, speaking only to Mila and Victor, as though Yuuri and Phichit weren’t even there. However Phichit ignored Yuri’s chilly temperament and continued to chatter away at him, something that made the boy’s shoulders hunch sulkily as he rode.

When they stopped to settle for the night in a field under the open sky, the twins took their turn to fetch firewood. Yuuri unrolled his sleeping sack and flopped down on top of it, the thick grass cushioning him nicely.

“Oh no,” Victor said, gesturing for him to get back up. “Come on, you need combat training.”

Yuuri groaned, but got back to his feet as Phichit giggled and sat idly watching. Yuuri wished he’d escaped to get firewood whilst he’d had the chance. He untied his staff from his pack, as Victor held a long, thin branch he’d found earlier.

“So this is an uppercut, much like in boxing but with your staff,” Victor said, coming to stand beside him. “Draw the staff under first and it will create a more rounded motion, finishing in this stance.”

Victor demonstrated and Yuuri imitated.

“Good, you’re learning faster.”

“How do you know how to use a staff when you’re always carrying that sword?” Yuuri asked, struggling to maintain balance with his weight over his bent front leg and the other stretched out behind him.

“I have to know how to use what is available to me,” Victor replied, circling through the next motion with Yuuri copying him. “I can fight hand to hand too... In fact,” he straightened and considered for a moment. “You should probably improve your hand to hand in case you get separated from your staff. Here.” Victor threw his stick down and Yuuri did the same with his staff. He held up his hands, palms facing Yuuri. “Punch my hands as hard as you can.”

Yuuri looked at him, the breeze ruffling their hair.

“You’re giving me permission to punch you?” he checked.

His heart was beating very hard and Victor was looking at him with those intense blue eyes of his, a smirk playing on his lips. Yuuri suddenly knew he very much  _ did _ want to lay hands on him. He just wasn’t entirely sure in what way.

“That’s right,” Victor confirmed.

Yuuri smiled, a matching smirk tugging up the corner of his mouth. He could punch. He was  _ good _ at punching. 

Yuuri swung. His fist connected with Victor’s palm. It was only slightly more forgiving than hitting a wall. A high, reedy gasp escaped Yuuri’s lips as he snapped his hand back to his chest, cradling it in his other palm. Phichit laughed as Yuuri curled in on himself.

“Holy whore of the Gods,” Yuuri cursed, feeling how unwilling his fingers were to straighten.

Victor was trying to hide his smile, and failing completely.

“There’s the mouth of a street kid,” he exclaimed. “Now put that into a punch. Although that last one wasn’t bad, I just sort of forgot about my own hands being so… hard.”

Yuuri considered going to punch him in the face instead, but knew he’d probably dodge it.

“But my hand hurts,” he moaned. “I don’t want to hit your hand again, it’s like punching a rock wall, what the hell are you made of?”

“Good looks and tasteful suits,” Victor said drily as he straightened. “Okay, see if you can catch me.”

Yuuri gave him a sullen look. “You know I won’t be able to. You’re faster than me,” he stated, rubbing the knuckles of his right hand.

“So are the turned ones,” Victor returned. “You need to at least be faster than you are now, learn to swing and keep your defences up. Phichit if you want to live through this I suggest you try to get quicker too.”

Phichit stopped his snickering and scowled at Victor.

“I’ll be fine, long bean,” he sniffed, flicking a piece of lint off his cuff. “You worry about Yuuri.”

The twins returned at that point with the firewood. There was still enough light in the sky to see that they looked windswept and rosy cheeked.

“What are you two doing?” Mila asked.

“Yuuri’s trying to hit me,” Victor explained, making Mila snort.

“And now you’re going to see me fail,” Yuuri added moodily.

Mila dropped her pile of wood, and put her hands on her hips.

“Oh just try and hit him, Yuuri. It would please me immensely if you managed it.” She grinned.

Yuri knelt with his wood and started to pile the pieces into a little tepee shape for the fire.

“It’s not going to matter whether he can fist fight,” he muttered. “Not if he gets close enough to a turned one to be able to.”

“Oh shush,” Mila scolded, then nodded encouragingly at Yuuri.

Yuuri set his jaw, and put his fists up in front of his face. Victor was standing nonchalantly waiting for him to start, wearing that infuriating bored and slightly amused look.

Yuuri swung for his face, but was prepared for the strike Victor made to get around his defences, and swerved his exposed ribs out of the way of his fist.

“Very good!” Victor said, looking delighted and only further annoying Yuuri.

"Don’t. Patronise. Me.” Yuuri’s words were punctuated by swings, as he pushed Victor backwards.

“But seriously, you’re getting better!” Victor said, looking confused as to why Yuuri was offended as he ducked out of the way of his lunges.

Yuuri gave a cry of frustration and bought a knee up towards Victor’s groin. Victor dodged it, and then gave him a stern look.

“Hey, that’s not cool,” he said, looking put out.

Mila and Phichit were cackling away as Yuri ignored them all and prepared supper.

“Seriously what if you’d hit me there?” Victor asked, still dodging Yuuri’s attempts to hit him, stepping nimbly around their clusters of belongings.

“Then I’d have laughed and the lesson would be over,” Yuuri stated, before attempting to roundhouse kick him in the head.

Victor caught his ankle just before it connected with the side of his head, and gave it a short, sharp tug that pulled him off balance. Yuuri landed on the grass in a heap, banging his elbow.

“Hey that was good! Where’d that come from?” Victor said, looking enthused by his kick despite it not landing.

Yuuri didn’t respond, instead taking a moment to catch his breath.

The sky above him was dark now, but Yuri’s fire kept his cheeks glowing. Bird calls and the sound of crickets could occasionally be heard over the wind, which carried the smoke of the fire away from them.

“Hold up I need a moment,” Yuuri said, his head flopping backwards onto the ground.

“Okay,” said Victor, lowering his defences.

As soon as he did so, Yuuri grabbed his staff that lay beside him in the grass, and jabbed it upwards towards Victor’s stomach. Victor knocked the tip of it away and frowned down at him.

“You fight dirty,” he said.

“Well when everyone’s faster and stronger than me I do what I can,” Yuuri sighed, climbing to his feet.

Mila laughed again at this. Her eyes were bright as she snuggled deeper into her coat. Yuuri wondered if the red haired girl’s good mood was because they were back in the twins’ usual environment.

“Right, knock it off you two, food’s ready,” Yuri said gruffly, filling his own bowl with beans from the pan.

The other four huddled round the fire, taking it in turns to scoop beans into their bowls. They settled down and chatted about the journey ahead. It was times like this that Yuuri could fool himself that he was just taking a trip, feeling somewhat lucky that he and Phichit had been accepted by the group that had known and fought beside each other for years. He fed himself beans and listened to the others talk rather than contributing himself, wrapping himself in his sleeping sack and glad for the warmth of his woolen jumper.

“You guys packed furs for the mountains, right?” Mila asked of Victor, Yuuri and Phichit. They nodded in response. “Good. It’s going to be cold up there.”

“We pass what sounds like a pretty interesting tomb on the way there. Want to have a look?” Victor asked, looking keen.

“No, Victor,” Mila said, shaking her head. “I’m not having you chasing off after some pack of reanimated skeletons or something, just for one of us to get hurt before we even make it to the Fair Palace.”

“Okay I’ll just go in by myself and you can wait outside.” Victor shrugged.

“Alright, maybe.” Mila gave in, making Victor grin. “But if we do we’re just having a quick look, alright? No trying to track down the legend of some forgotten hero.”

“Yeah because that doesn’t sound like the best thing ever,” Victor retorted.

After a little while Yuuri climbed into his sleeping sack and lay his head down on his bag. He listened to others’ conversation and let it lull him to sleep, his breathing becoming slow and heavy. He dropped off with the fire heating his cheeks.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Eve!

By the afternoon of the next day, Yuuri’s chin was continuously raised in rapt awe of the mountains. They were cragged and fierce, rising jaggedly from the fields below like the rucked sheets of a bed. As he rode into them, he grasped and probed at his slippery understanding of their wharl. He was learning to attune himself, not going far enough to start seeing the wharl patterns, but sensing the rocks’ and their unconscious wisdom. He let the knowledge that they’d been here for thousands of years before he was and would be for thousands more to come feed his senses.

The five of them were making their way up a path leading into the mountains, stopping occasionally to allow the horses a rest from the steep incline. Mountain flowers bobbed frantically in the breeze as though waving, and Yuuri caught sight of the occasional rabbit hopping through the grass.

They’d left the dwellings of humans far behind, the last farmhouse falling away miles back, and Yuuri entered this wild world with an excitement humming in his stomach. The blue sky held a few clouds, making it alternate between sunshine and shadow as the silhouette of a bird of prey imprinted its shape against the sky.

Yuuri’s body had been gradually folding in on itself throughout the morning, his shoulders slumped and his arms limp from the constant riding. Victor had slowed to trot along beside him, Hekei and Jayik keeping their heads lowered as they continued determinedly on.

“You don’t have to stay with me you know,” Yuuri said to him, adjusting himself so he was somewhat straighter, then immediately cringing at the ache.

Phichit was happily keeping up with the twins, apparently completely at home on a horse.

“No it’s alright,” Victor replied, looking up at the sky and the mountains. “I like taking it slow to look at the view.”

He was twirling the stick he’d collected the day before in one hand.

“You gonna carry that thing all the way to the Fair Palace?” Yuuri asked nodding to it.

“Probably not,” shrugged Victor, quirking a smile at Yuuri. “But I have taken a shine to it.”

He had smoothed the stick of its bark, revealing its lighter flesh.

There was a pause as they rode on, broken by the gentle clatter of horse’s hooves.

“Why did you decide to come?” Victor asked eventually.

Yuuri looked up at the mountains, these lower peaks still bare of snow, and considered the question.

“I’m not really sure I know myself, to be honest,” he said after a pause. “I think the excitement of an adventure appealed to me… but I… with the wall having all this ancient knowledge on it, I thought maybe I could find something more about the whisperers.”

“You know it’s a big sodding wall right?” Victor asked rhetorically. “It’s like a maze, twisting and turning back on itself. It wouldn’t be our first port of call for answers, but Lilia… you have to trust her instincts.”

“I know,” Yuuri said lightly, as though it didn’t matter all that much.

As the day wore on, they climbed higher and higher into the mountains, which got larger as they went. There was a certain eeriness to the peaks, despite their beauty, and Yuuri felt very small and very far away from the powers of man whilst among them. When they settled for the night, it was in a wide valley running like a scar through the mountains. Grass and flowers grew thick and wild here, the soil rich from being churned by long gone glaciers. The peaks reached for a sky scattered with stars that had had hidden themselves in the light of Lillenwyn, but appeared here to gaze down at the moon soaked land.

After they’d eaten, Yuuri lay on his sleeping roll staring up at the stars. His hands were propped behind his head, and a small smile was playing on his face.

Mila came and spread her sleeping roll next to him, flopping down on it with the nimble exhaustion of an athlete.

“Hey,” Mila whispered. “Want to see some constellations?”

“Sure,” Yuuri whispered back, unsure why they were whispering when Phichit was still talking continuously over by the fire, much to the apparent annoyance of Yuri.

“Okay can you see that bright star just there?” Mila asked, moving her head closer to Yuuri’s.

“Yes,” Yuuri said, still whispering.

“That’s the elbow of Votune, and that,” she pointed at another bright star. “Is the tip of her sword. There’s the star in her crown, and that’s the base of her foot.”

“Huh,” said Yuuri thoughtfully, gazing up at the constellation. “Was she a great hero? In the myths I mean.”

Mila folded her hands over her stomach and nodded.

“The best,” she returned. “Not because of her victories, but because of her mercy. It is harder to let something live, I think, than to just stab it or whatever.”

Yuuri turned his head to look at his only female companion, his eyes flicking over her elegant profile.

“You think so?” he asked. “It’s a hard choice, and you know, actually physically hard, to take a life.”

“Yes I suppose so,” Mila replied, still gazing at Voltune’s constellation. “But maintaining control rather than giving into all the — the anger… that is power. In its best form.”

“Spoken like Votune herself,” Yuuri said, and was rewarded with a laugh that was sharp on the night filled valley.

They fell silent, and Yuuri was tempted by the stark difference of Mila’s life story to his own, enough that he nearly asked it of her. But he remained quiet, feeling sensitive to the look that he recognised from the too many faces of street children. That of drastic independence thrust upon her by absent parents.

Yuuri turned his head to look back up at the stars. The mountain air, the only thing between him and the sky, nipped against his exposed cheeks and nose. The air’s energy, or wharl as he was now coming to think of it, was more tangible for the lack of man, beast, and machine’s influence. Its sheer freedom, unstifled by buildings, and unpolluted by factory smoke, did not echo in its vastness. It simply was. Thrumming through him, sharing its presence as it did his space.

And Yuuri thought of his mother, as he had so often since they’d been on the open road, haunting the places that were carved deep by his mother’s wandering passions. He saw her rounding every tree, and bending to brush every flower. But staring up at the stars, in his sleep drunk state, Yuuri felt like he was staring into the glassy reflections of his mother’s own eyes.

“It’s all tangled up together really,” Yuuri whispered, with a slow and numb blink.

“What’s that?” Mila asked, her eyes flicking back to Yuuri from where they’d been picking along the tree line. But the dark haired boy next to her was already breathing softly in his sleep.

 

* * *

 

When Victor watched Yuuri wake in the morning, he saw him roll over and cast a bleary eye over the flattened patch of grass Mila had occupied during the night.

“They’ve gone hunting,” he explained from where he sat poking at the embers of the diminished fire.

A little way off Phichit was wandering around, apparently happy picking flowers.

Yuuri twisted round in his blanket cocoon to Victor give that shell shocked stare of those awoken from deep sleep, blinking at him a couple of times before he let his head flop back down.

“Oh…” he said in a dazed mumble, the early hour clogging his tongue.

“Did I wake you?” Victor asked, his hand stilling mid jab, the tip of a rod from the cooking tripod buried in the ashes of the fire pit.

“No I… I can’t remember, maybe.” Yuuri rolled over, making little noises as he worked his way out of her sleeping sack. Victor watched him from the corner of his eye until he stopped, his feet still encased in the sheepskin sack, as he stared up at the colourless sky, his hair messy and eyes wide like a creature of the hedgerow. There was something intensely intimate about seeing Yuuri like this. His open, unguarded expression, lips puffy from sleep eyes unfocused. It made something ache in Victor’s chest.

When Yuuri started to move again, Victor busied himself with throwing logs on the exhausted fire.

“We may as well have a warm breakfast, seeing as it doesn’t look like the twins will be appearing any time soon,” he said, flicking his fingers over the logs to make a flame.

Yuuri murmured in agreement, his drowsy eyes following the fire’s progress along the logs as he drew out his wooden toothbrush.

Victor had noticed that he was warmer since Phichit had joined them. He blushed more easily and got flustered by Phichit’s jokes, his hardness softening so that some of the real Yuuri came through. And the real Yuuri was really quite cute.

“You know you’re kind of like a witch,” Yuuri said dreamily after a while, his focus distant as he stared at the flames.

“What?” Victor laughed, leaning back in his cross-legged position.

“I mean that’s the closest thing folklore has got to your… flair.” Yuuri said, looking at him with the straight-faced honesty of morning.

“My flair,” Victor repeated, watching Yuuri squeeze mint paste onto his toothbrush, swig some water and stick the brush in his mouth before nodding.

“It’s the all the hand gestures and the occasional mysterious mumbling, and then something goes poof,” he garbled around his toothbrush, imitating the motions Victor had just made to light the fire.

Victor thought about this, his face pulled into exaggerated consideration.

“Wouldn’t I at least be a wizard?” he said after a moment, deciding to play along after all.

“No,” Yuuri stated abruptly, managing to spit to the side with impressive elegance. “You’ve got too much sass. That’s definitely a witch thing.”

Victor stared at him, incredulous.

“I do not have—” but he was cut off by the look on Yuuri’s face.

The boy’s cheeks had gone pale, his lips, still white with mint paste, had tightened into a thin line as the hand holding his toothbrush snapped back to his chest. Yuuri’s drowsy slump had gone rigid as his posture snapped itself straight, as though someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him. Panic spiked through Victor. And it was amazing, how this boy inspired such fear in him, how any hint that he was in danger had Victor’s blood running cold.

Victor was by his side before the spilt water from his canteen hit the floor.

“Yuuri, Yuuri, stay with me, listen to my voice.” He gripped Yuuri’s shoulders, the muscles tense beneath his hands. “You are stronger than it, Yuuri, you have power over it.”

“No,” Yuuri said faintly, his voice dazed. “No it’s not the wharl, Victor, it was…”

He turned his face to him, completely conscious and in control as he released a breath that chattered with shock. Victor drew back, dismissing his surprise at Yuuri’s composure and recalculating the situation. His head whipped around to look for an external threat, whilst his hands stayed gripped on Yuuri’s stiff shoulders.

“It was something else, I… I think, I recognise… I don’t know I can’t be sure, it was so quick, but it was like something before, I think, no, I don’t know…”

“Shhhh…” Victor hushed him, his eyes still darting around the open valley as Yuuri started to shake. Victor instinctively drew him closer into the fold of his arms.

“Breathe. Breathe first and then talk,” he said gently, half aware that it was the first time he’d ever properly hugged the other man.

The tree line arrested his focus, the otherwise open grassland giving no hiding place for a threat, and the slopes that rose up either side of them too exposed and lacking the even footing required for an attack. Phichit was still picking flowers, unaware that anything of import had happened.

Gradually Victor noticed Yuuri relax in the circle of his arms, his sleep-warm muscles unspooling against Victor’s chest. Victor dragged his attention away from the valley back to the stunned boy. He gently released him from his embrace, and sat back to look at his face. Yuuri gave him a shaky smile, and then a slightly hysterical laugh as he shook his head.

“I’m sorry I don’t really know what that was about.”

But his eyes were jumping around the peaceful valley in the same pattern that Victor’s had. He wiped the remnants of mint paste from his mouth.

“That was really freaky, I’m not sure what happened.”

Victor waited for him to continue in the silence that followed, before realising he wasn’t going to voice something he was still in the process of working out for himself.

“It’s okay, Yuuri,” he said, bringing his attention back to him. “You can tell me what you felt. Who’s more likely to believe you than I?”

Yuuri’s lips gave a cracked smile, and he looked down.

“No I know you would.”

And something in Victor cracked a little at the trust in Yuuri’s voice, the surrender in it.

“I just don’t know what happened yet… but it wasn’t nice, it… really wasn’t nice,” he finished, his brows drawing together.

Victor became aware of a disturbance in the trees on the far side of the valley to them, and his head snapped round, his hand flying to his sword.

But it was just the twins. His sharp eyes could determine their shapes from here, and the rabbits that they carried slung over their shoulders. They were running, and he quickly assessed whether they were running away from something, or just towards the stress they must’ve picked up from him.

“What? What is it?” Yuuri asked frantically, scrambling to get to his feet.

“No, no, it’s alright, it’s just the twins,” Victor explained, catching his wrist to stop him from rising with his feet still tangled in the sleeping sack, sorry to have startled him when he was so spooked.

“Oh.” Yuuri settled, and his eyes strained to see the twins in the trees.

Phichit seemed to have picked up that something was going on and was making his way back to them, frowning.

Victor let Yuuri readjust, watching his profile as he knelt beside him.

“Can you tell me what happened now?” he asked, keeping an eye on the others, wanting to know the situation before they arrived.

Yuuri blinked his way round from wherever he’d gone to in his head to focus back on Victor.

“Yes, yes of course, it’s… well it was like something… like something stroked me.” He looked at Victor, and Victor saw his eyes were wary as he tried to read Victor’s reaction.

“Well that’s… I don’t know what to say to that,” Victor stated honestly, frustrated with himself that he couldn’t stem Yuuri’s worry with a sensitive and insightful comment.

Yuuri let out a big gush of breath he’d been holding.

“Yes — yes I know that’s weird, but it’s what it felt like,” he tugged at a handful of grass, before looking up to watch the fast approaching siblings and Phichit.

“It was as though something, and I’m sticking with something rather than someone,” he said, surprisingly calm despite the jarring statement, “like something ran its hand down my spine… but more like along my mind.”

Yuuri’s lips pressed together momentarily as his eyes squinted in the struggle to verbalise the feeling.

“I don’t really know what else to say at this point,” he said after a pause.

Victor watched him pulling out the grass for a moment, and then abruptly was on his feet. Yuuri stared up at him, startled. He had a moment to regret forgetting his speed as he looked down at Yuuri’s wide eyes, before he started walking.

“Where are you going?” Yuuri asked, a slight edge of panic in his voice.

“Nowhere,” Victor replied, as he started his circle around their camp, his fingers flicking out with subtle twitches of his wrists as he went. “I’m putting up wards.”

It took him no more than thirty seconds, but when he finished he was surprised to see Yuuri still hadn’t moved. He approached him by coming to stand in what was roughly the middle of the patch of ground they’d settled on, not wanting to go further but concerned by Yuuri’s unusual immobility. Yuuri was hardly the type of boy to sit out on the action.

“It’s just a precaution,” Victor explained lamely, wiping his hands on the bottom of his travelling shirt as though he’d just finished a practical job.

“Yes that’s… that’s good.” Yuuri nodded, before gathering himself to stand, not looking at Victor.

“That is good,” Yuuri mumbled again to himself as he bent to stuff the items outside his bag back in the pockets.

Victor’s stood unmoving, his loose shirt flapping around him as the wind whipped the wild grasses up around his long legs. With his hand propped on the sword at his hip, he looked calmly threatening. But his thoughts stuttered awkwardly for the right thing to say as he watched the pale boy in front of him. Watched him push his hair out his face as he hunched over, watched the tight line of his lips as he made the effort to focus on packing his bag and nothing else.

“Hey,” Mila called, when she and Yuri were still a little way off from camp, and Victor turned to see she had her bow in hand and Yuri had his two short swords drawn. They slowed to a jog as they drew near. “What’s going on?”

Victor didn’t answer, but closed the remaining distance between him and the siblings before they could react.

“Urumbai,” he uttered, bringing his hand up sharply in front of Mila’s face, his fingers splayed as he exposed his palm to her before repeating the process for Yuri, who flinched away from it in annoyance.

“A cleansing utterance? What the hell, Victor?” The male twin swatted at the air in front of him as though to clear it.

“I’m just being cautious,” Victor stated solemnly, turning back to wade through the grass rather than indulging Yuri’s annoyance.

“Hey what’s going on?” Phichit asked as he reached them. “Yuuri, are you okay?”

Phichit crossed hurriedly to his friend. Victor saw him take Yuuri’s hands in his, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles.

“Is it your head?” Victor heard Phichit ask very quietly. “Is it getting bad?”

Yuuri ducked his chin to his chest.

“No my head’s fine, Phi,” Yuuri mumbled back, and Victor busied himself with gathering his pack in an attempt to hear no more of the private conversation.

Mila glanced at Yuuri and Phichit, and Victor saw how her brow knitted together as she took in Yuuri’s distracted face. Yuuri stood half turned away, his eyes distant. Phichit still held one of his hands.

Mila completed her somewhat annoyed once over of the disengaged Yuuri, before dragging her eyes back to Victor, whose cold glare she flinched back from.

Victor was vaguely aware that there was some confusion he felt at the instant anger that had flared at Mila’s look, but should have been tempered by a loyalty of knowing Mila longer than he had done Yuuri. But he pushed this away, and blinked the steel from his eyes to explain the situation.

“Yuuri might have been attacked,” he said in measured tones, as Yuri came to stand closer to Mila.

The male twin’s eyes were narrowed but unreadable as he took in the packed bags, his gaze barely acknowledging the silent figure of Yuuri as it took in the situation rather than depending upon Victor to explain it to him.

“By who?” Mila asked, casting her eyes around to look for evidence of an enemy and gripping her bow tighter.

“We don’t know,” Victor stated simply, pulling Mila’s focus back to him. “Something in his head, or his awareness of the wharl, we just don’t know yet.”

Victor felt frustration at his ignorance of the situation flare up again. It was hard to block an attack when he didn’t know where it was coming from, and Victor felt hopelessly on the back foot.

“Seeing as we know so little about wharl whisperers, this could be nothing more than Yuuri growing into his powers.” He turned to address Yuuri as he said this, not wanting to talk about him as though he wasn’t there. “Seriously, Yuuri, it’s quite likely that’s all this is.”

Yuuri didn’t look at him. He was staring at the swaying grass, his hair slightly ruffled by the wind. But he nodded numbly and murmured a hum of agreement.

“Anyhow it’s best to be on the safe side, so we’re moving on.” Victor’s eyes lingered on Yuuri, brows knitted together as he continued.

Then he turned to whistle for the horses, which turned and started trotting towards them obediently.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell you how encouraging and needed comments are on these longer fics, thank you everyone for your kind words and support :)
> 
> Happy new year!

Yuuri was aware of Victor’s gaze upon him as they prepared the horses for their departure. But he determinedly kept his eyes focused on the various straps that he’d learnt to adjust over the days of riding. He gave Jayik’s neck a pat, who seemed to have come to not only tolerate him, but endure Yuuri’s bad riding skills with something like sympathy.

Yuuri whispered comforting half sentences to the horse as he adjusted the reins, even though Jayik was clearly in no need of being soothed. Phichit was hovering close by, also keeping an anxious eye on Yuuri.

“Ready to go?” Yuuri heard Mila ask from behind him, and turned to see the girl already astride Den, the hazel mare looking alert and keen for the ride as she stared out beyond their party and gave a snort of impatience.

Mila on the other hand, wore an expression full of concern as she looked down at Yuuri. Yuuri turned sharply away from this, hurriedly tightening the last of Jayik’s straps.

“Yes I’m coming,” he said, addressing his saddle as he hoisted himself into it, turning Jayik instantly towards their intended direction rather than pause to return the stare of his female companion.

“Okay,” called Victor, from where he’d been waiting in his saddle, glancing quickly at Yuuri. “Let’s head for the Irenon pass.”

Yuuri followed suit as the members of The True and Phichit nudged their horses forward, settling into a trot that was somewhat quicker than they’d endured so far.

The continual glances that Yuuri had felt from his companions as they packed away the remainder of the camp bought him round to the present. At first unnoticing and unaware, he’d grown gradually irritated by the looks ranging from concerned to decidedly suspicious from Yuri. Breaking the surface of his shock, he now considered the morning’s incident with measured rationale.

The feeling that something had pressed not only into his mind, but also into his awareness of the wharl, was sickeningly present as he let Jayik carry him over the fluttering mountain flowers. The touch of a foreign psyche, as it pressed along his own in a brief but invasive caress, had pushed him back from where his unconscious hummed along with the wharl, his mind retreating in on itself in dismay. Every now and then Yuuri would shake his head, or look around them with the feeling they’d were being watched as they rode through the valley. He tore through his memories for where he had experienced something similar, but repeatedly pulled up blank and frustrated, glancing up only to catch one of the others hurriedly look away from where they’d been watching him.

Their procession made its way through miles of green valley before they started to climb again. The path that took them through the mountains was narrow but well maintained. Victor rode next to Yuuri, relaxed in his saddle and his silver hair ruffled into disarray by the wind.

“If we were going in the month of Yerren, this path would be full of pilgrims.” Victor gestured around them and then let his hand flop to his thigh as he stared ahead. “We’re not far from the shrine of Iykar.”

The unbreakable calm of his face was like the slow encroaching frost of winter, and Yuuri let himself focus on it for a moment, taking it as his anchor. He could tell Victor was at a loss for what to say. Yuuri let the silence go on, and instead focused on riding and keeping his sense of the wharl at bay.

As morning arched to afternoon, they descended into another valley which they rode down for the remainder of the day. Phichit made a valiant effort to cheer Yuuri, but he remained quiet.

“I want to see the Forgotten Church,” Mila piped up, as the sun started to dip towards the horizon. “Can we pass through it?”

The others agreed and they altered their course slightly.

“What is the Forgotten Church?” Yuuri asked, his curiosity drawing him out of his deep reverie.

“Well no one really knows,” Victor explained as he rode along beside him and Phichit. “But it’s good to visit.”

They didn’t reach the ruins of the church until sunset. Phichit ooed and awed as they drew up under them, great pillars of stone that resembled the remains of a cathedral. It was odd, there were pointed arches of high stone doors and well preserved walls, but there was no ceiling and the grasses swayed over the floor. Like the surrounding nature of the valley had simply stepped into the church, sweeping over the ground and opening it up to the sky. It was calm and haunting. Yuuri took it all in with quiet reverence.

They settled in the shelter of two pillars and Phichit helped Mila cook over a fire made by Victor. The setting sun lit the stones a brilliant amber before it faded to twilight. Victor left off the combat training for tonight, for which Yuuri was grateful.

As darkness fell, Yuuri left the others to wander through the pillars of stone. It was now late enough that moonlight fell silver where the roof once stood against the sky. High arches where windows would have been looked out onto the mountains, the stars brilliant above them. The wind whispered through the grass.

Yuuri walked until he couldn’t see the others then came to a stop looking up at the stones, letting their calm presence wash over him. He felt wrung out. But in this quiet space he could let it slide off him. He hadn’t been alone for days.

After a little while Yuuri heard a sound behind him. He turned, and saw Victor standing in a crumbling archway.

“Are you okay?” Victor asked gently, drawing closer to him. He was monochrome in the starlight, his features visible by the full moon.

And for a moment Yuuri felt the weight of it all. In a way that he hadn’t since all of this started he suddenly felt immensely tired. He had the overwhelming desire to lean into Victor, to let him take some of the weight. To let himself be held.

But he simply offered Victor a small smile, and nodded minutely.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice equally as low. “I’m okay.”

Victor drew closer to him, and Yuuri didn’t shy away from his concerned eyes. He let him look.

They were silent for a few moments, the wind sighing against them.

Then Victor reached a hand out to him. And Yuuri let himself fall.

He crumbled against Victor’s chest, his head tucked under Victor’s chin as Victor wrapped his arms around him. He was solid under Yuuri’s hands, his body hot, and Yuuri let himself feel it, let himself feel the pull of Victor. He could hear Victor’s heartbeat, the irresistible tug of his own. And gods he just wanted to let himself drown in this for a moment, wanted to submit, let himself be crushed by this feeling so he could forget the others. Because for some reason tonight it all seemed like too much. Everything Yuuri had found out about himself, the expectations which he felt from the others, the horrible thing that had touched him that morning. And his parents, somewhere amongst it all his parents, and whatever secrets they’d had.

But Victor was steady. Victor was the heavy surety of the ocean, the tide that pulled Yuuri in and the waves that consumed him. And for a little while he didn’t have to think about any of it, only Victor’s heat against him. Even if he couldn’t explain the inexplicable calm that Victor bought when only a few days ago he hadn’t trusted him at all, Yuuri could just let himself feel it. Let himself sink.

They stood there for a while, their arms wrapped around each other, breathing together.

Eventually Yuuri felt normal enough that the embarrassment of collapsing against Victor eclipsed the desire to stay in his arms. Blushing, he stepped back.

“We should —”

“Yuuri…”

And Victor’s voice was thick with something, something that made Yuuri look up at him, so he saw Victor’s raw, open expression, all his guards down. And it almost felt intrusive, to see his face like this. But it was for him, he was looking at Yuuri. And gods he was so pretty.

“I —”

“Yuuri?” Phichit’s voice broke the peace, and Yuuri hurriedly stepped back from Victor. “Where did you — oh.”

Phichit appeared around a corner, spotting Victor and Yuuri standing together. His eyebrows rose so high they were lost in his fringe.

“Phichit,” Yuuri said, his voice slightly off kilter as he stepped towards the boy. “You were looking for me?”

“I just came to see where you’d gotten to,” Phichit said, sounding slightly uncertain but his eyes twinkling with something as they flicked between Yuuri and Victor.

“I just needed a little space,” Yuuri said, making his way over, leaving Victor standing where they’d stepped apart.

Phichit nodded, casting a curious glance over to where Victor stood before following Yuuri back towards camp.

“You like him,” Phichit sing songed in a low voice.

“Phichit,” Yuuri said in a warning voice.

His face felt hot, his throat tight.

“What? You do,” Phichit retorted, smirking at Yuuri.

“I’m not in the mood, Phi.”

“He’s in the mood.”

“Phichit.”

By the time Victor returned to camp, the other four were already settled in their bedrolls. Yuuri heard him crouch by the low burning fire and stoke it, then the sound of him climbing into his own bedroll. Yuuri feigned sleep, and tried not to think about the look on Victor’s face before Phichit had interrupted them.

 

* * *

 

It rained the next morning. The group left the ruins of the Forgotten Church and climbed higher into the mountains. The grasses of the valley fell away and great blankets of heather took over. The occasional swath of cotton grasses bobbed their fluffy white heads between stretches of moss, and clusters of juniper bushes rose up next to the path. The occasional patch of slushy, dirty snow appeared. Yuri jumped from his horse once, stooping to collect the red berries at the centre of the dwarf cornel flowers. It was increasingly cold.

Victor watched Yuuri where he rode ahead of him with Phichit. He seemed to have shaken off the sour feeling of whatever had happened to him yesterday morning, and was laughing at Phichit’s constant stream of chatter. Victor was suddenly very grateful for Yuuri’s small, dark haired friend. For how much comfort he bought Yuuri, for how Yuuri had softened with him there. Yuuri had let Victor hold him.

Victor could no longer deny the attraction he felt towards the younger man. But he’d tucked it away inside himself, like a little fire burning beneath his ribs. It was easier to manage when they were continually in the company of three other people.

The rain didn’t let up until the evening, and although it wasn’t too heavy, the continuous downpour meant they were thoroughly soaked. They trudged on up winding paths that doubled back on themselves to climb the slopes. It was looking increasingly difficult to find a spot to stop for the night, the sloping ground meaning that water would flow into their camp even if they strung up the tarp they’d bought to sleep under.

“There!” Mila called, as the sky darkened to dusk.

She was pointing at a hollow in the rock wall of the mountain. It wasn’t deep, but it went far enough back that it looked like it’d provide decent shelter. They spent the night there, and when they rose the next morning it was dry, and they spent the day much the same as the one before, winding their way up and between the mountains.

When they paused to take a break, Yuuri split off from where they’d settled to the side of the path. He wound through the rubble, spindly bushes and pine trees that grew beside the path until he reach the wall of rockwall their path pressed up against. Victor watched him, the straight set of his back, how his shoulders were set as he reached out a hand and placed it on the stone. After a moment, he got up and followed him.

Yuuri had his eyes closed when Victor reached him.

“What’re you doing?” Victor asked, his voice low enough that it was nearly swept away by the wind that had kept up since yesterday’s storm.

Yuuri’s lip quirked into a slight smile and he didn’t respond for a few moments. Then his hand slipped from the rock.

“Feeling its energy,” he said eventually, turning and looking up at Victor with those huge amber eyes. “It’s so vast and old… its wharl is almost basic in comparison to when I see something man made, but there’s a depth to it which is indescribable.”

Victor stared down at him, lost for words and not sure why in that moment he was feeling slightly faint. Don’t, he wanted to say. Don’t let it take you from me.

“You’ve started trying to see the wharl?” he asked instead, even though his throat felt tight with the weight of what lay on Yuuri.

“Not see it no,” Yuuri replied, turning back to look at the rockface. “That only happens when I channel it. Just sort of sensing it… it’s hard to explain. I don’t seem to be getting the headaches anymore though, since I’ve started feeling my way around it.”

Unseen by Yuuri, Victor watched him, watched the way his brow creased slightly as he considered the rock, his lips pouting slightly in concentration. There was no breath left in Victor’s lungs.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Victor found himself murmuring, his voice desperate.

“What?” Yuuri said, surprised as he turned back to him, the wind pushing his dark sweeps of hair into disarray.

“Promise me that you’ll not go too far into it, that you’ll tell me if you need me, I can’t —” Victor broke off, breathing heavily.

“Victor…” Yuuri said softly, and he actually took a step forward, his hand coming up and though to grip Victor’s arm.

And it felt like too much, how badly he wanted Yuuri to close the distance between them.

But then Yuuri dropped his hand, and smiled up at him.

“Of course I will,” he said, those gorgeous eyes slightly crinkled at the corners. “I know how good you are at knocking me out.”

Victor released his breath in a whoosh of air, and nodded. He’d been tempted to say that wasn’t what he meant, but instead he just turned back to rejoin the others.

Victor had never come across someone coming into their Dur’rish blood quite as violently as Yuuri, and he felt lost with how little they knew. With how they were letting the whispering break and reforge Yuuri’s mind. Such great power would have to have an effect as it came into its own. Victor didn’t know if it was a comfort that the unsettling experience Yuuri had had a couple of days before might be due to this, or worried him over what was being done to the raven haired thief that had stumbled unwillingly into his life. The one person that Victor felt could help him was miles behind them.

Victor had not been present when Lilia had come of age, but he’d managed to pick up enough to know that it hadn’t been the easiest experience. From what he understood, if she hadn’t already been part of The True due to her birthright, Lilia would have been locked away for insanity, and probably actually ended up mad by the time the visions were finished with her.

Celestino could also be of help. What with his experience in altering things through runes, he could have valuable insight into how Yuuri’s ability to impact upon the wharl of an object was affecting him. If Yuuri ever reached the level of actually being able to change something by tinkering with its wharl, to go beyond just shifting or bending things that were near the epicenter of his disruption, then he was likely to need Celestino’s help. The chances of that happening were very slim, Victor knew. The Gods were the only ones who could create matter and fully change the essence of a thing. And whilst wharl whisperers were rare, those that could twist an object were rarer, most of them like bright stars, either sizzling along in their extraordinary state or burning up quickly and going out with a bang.

Phichit’s eyes were on Victor when he returned to the others, narrowed and suspicious. There also seemed to be some small measure of approval in the slight smile that he gave Victor as he settled down beside Yuri.

Strangely enough Yuri was also watching him. The blonde, who rarely took an interest in anything beside his sister and fighting, was scowling at him.

“Something the matter, Yuri?” Victor asked.

“Nothing,” the younger twin grunted, and turned back to bite into his jerky.

When Yuuri returned and sat down beside Phichit, Mila looked up from the map she’d been pouring over.

“We should reach the Fair Palace tomorrow,” she said, sounding pleased as she folded the map away.

“That was good going on our part,” Victor offered.

“Well the weather was good up until yesterday,” Mila returned. “Helped a lot with our progress. I hope it doesn’t snow as we get higher up.”

“It’s still early,” Yuri said, Mila nodding along before he’d even started his sentence. “It should be fine.”

“We can cosy up if it gets cold, eh Yuuri?” Phichit broke in, nudging his friend, who nudged him back so hard he nearly sent the boy sprawling.

“Shut up, Phi,” Yuuri said affectionately, a light blush on his cheeks.

For some reason his gaze flashed to Victor, and then hurriedly darted away.

When they resumed riding, Yuuri rode ahead with Phichit, obviously still uncomfortable in the saddle but laughing with his friend. Victor hung back, trying not to watch him. He had to be careful, he was spending more time looking at the other man than doing anything else and somebody would notice soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just kiss already.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck this chapter. This chapter was dragged out of me kicking and screaming. I'm still not sure I'm happy with it but here you go. Blah.

Yuuri’s first glimpse of the Fair Palace was a stone pillar. They’d been riding since early in the morning and he’d sort of switched himself off, resigned to the discomfort of being in the saddle and hardly noticing the spectacular mountains around them. They were amongst the peaks that never lost their snow now. Stretches of the path were covered in great blankets of the stuff, but it was shallow enough for the horses to walk over with ease. The thicket of bushes and pine trees on either side of the path sat on beds of it, making droplet patterns on its surface as the snow melted from their branches. The sound of the horses’ hooves were muffled in its folds.

It was overcast, dark clouds dimming the light and gathering threateningly above their heads. Yuuri had tucked his fur coat firmly about himself and buried his face in its collar. He was grateful for the warmth of Jayik’s body. Even Phichit was quiet as he rode beside him, his scarf wrapped around his head until only his eyes were visible.

“There,” Victor said, sometime in the late afternoon.

Yuuri, who had gone numb with cold, jolted in surprise and looked up. Victor was pointing at a stone pillar, which seemed to be hewn from the same rock as the mountain itself. They approached it where it stood to one side of the path, part of it broken off and laying on the ground beside it.

“It would’ve marked the approach to the palace,” Mila explained as they paused to look at it.

The pillar was square in shape, a pattern of a triangle repeating inside itself decorating its surface.

They were somber and alert after that. Yuri had one of his short swords drawn and Mila’s bow was resting against her hip where she carried it. Yuuri eyed Victor’s profile, the sharp turn of his chin as he surveyed the path and the rockwall they bordered upon for signs of movement.

“Yuuri,” Phichit said in a low murmur, pulling up next to him.

He fished in his pocket for something and then tossed it to Yuuri. Yuuri caught it and looked down to see a small, drawstring bag.

“Argolian blinding powder,” Phichit said by way of an explanation. “I don’t know how much good it’ll be against these things, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Do you just carry this stuff around with you?” Yuuri asked, grinning at Phichit as he tucked the powder into one of his pockets.

Phichit shrugged.

“Most of the time, yeah.”

A few more pillars dotted the sides of the path as they proceeded, many of them broken and worn with age. After a little while, the path opened out between two peaks.

Pine trees had grown up between the remains of the Fair Palace. What remained was architecture of sharp angles and blocky shapes. Fingers of rock sprouted up alongside the trees, bearing the same geometric patterns as the pillars they’d seen along the path.

“Easy now,” Victor said to Hekai as he came to a stop.

He dismounted, and the others followed suit. They left the horses free to roam, shouldering their packs before continuing on foot.

It was eerily quiet. The back of Yuuri’s neck prickled, and he kept looking over his shoulder, the feeling of eyes upon him very present. He felt jumpy, alert to the smallest of sounds. The overcast sky and the tall pine trees made for dim light as they approached the ruins. Victor came to walk beside him, his footfalls silent.

“You need to stay close to me,” he murmured to Yuuri, his voice barely above a whisper. “I move faster than you so it’ll be hard. We may be able to prevent them from swarming if we stay quiet.”

“Swarming?” Yuuri repeated, his voice oddly high pitched.

The word sent a shiver through him.

“They have a sort of hive mind,” Victor went on. “But if we take out stragglers quickly we can avoid them.”

Yuuri nodded, his throat too tight to give a proper response.

They passed between two blocks of stone which must’ve once been part of a large doorway. The space before them looked to be a hall of sorts. The foundations were visible between what remained of the walls, and a few cracked flagstones could be seen through the layer of pine needles. A couple of trees had managed to push their way through the flooring, cracking through the stone to reach the light that now poured through where the ceiling would’ve once stood. It was eery, the remains of what must’ve been a large and beautiful palace now haunting. It was also unnaturally still, not even the wind stirring the branches of the pines.

Yuuri still couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. He felt cold all over as he continually checked over his shoulder. Nothing stirred.

Yuri and Mila went still at the same time as the male twin held a hand up. The others stopped. Yuri pointed.

Through a space on the other side of the room a figure stood with its back to them. It was tall and thin, sickly greyish skin stretched over bones that jutted sharply from withered, spindly limbs that almost looked as though they were decaying away. Pointed ears sat on with side of a head that was mostly bald, coated only with a fine layer of white, wispy hair. Spines that looked like broken off feathers coated its back and a dirty pair of trousers was the only remaining item of its clothing.

There was something distinctly wrong about the look of the guenelin. Maybe it was that it looked almost like a corpse standing. Maybe it was the way it was just standing stock still, frozen with none of the qualities of something that was alive. Whatever it was it had the hairs on the back of Yuuri’s neck standing on end. He fought the urge to run.

Victor beckoned silently, and the group crept around the perimeter of the room, keeping their eyes on the immobile figure. The turned one didn’t move at all as the five of them stepped over what remained of the outer wall and hurried away.

Yuuri let a shudder ripple through him as they retreated away from the hall. He felt a light touch on his shoulder and turned to see Victor looking at him with concern in his eyes. Yuuri gave him a tight lipped smile.

Mila was consulting some sort of blueprint of the grounds. She looked up at the foundations of a corridor and then glanced at Yuri. Yuri shook his head in response to whatever Mila had just thought and pointed in the other direction. The group followed him as he lead them between trees, juts of stone occasionally visible where they stood crumbling into the forest floor.

After a little while and no more sightings of the guenelin, they came out into the remains of another large room. This one had more trees growing in it, but also more remained of the surrounding walls, the occasional window visible between the angular patterns.

It happened as Yuuri stepped out into the room. He felt a sort of shift in the air around him, and before he could think about it, he ducked. He felt something swipe at the spot where his head had just been and the sound of feet hitting the floor beside him.

“Yuuri!”

Victor’s cry of his name sounded distant as Yuuri turned and laid eyes on the guenelin that had leapt from the window above to land beside him. Its posture was bent in on itself, sharp shoulders hunched and claw tipped hands curled before it. Its shrunken face was pinched into a snarl, oversized, almond shaped eyes that were nearly all black iris and a mouth that hung open to reveal sharp little teeth. Its skin looked rotten.

Yuuri felt his stomach turn over in revulsion.

It swiped at Yuuri, who was too slow to dodge its speed. But next second there was a flash of silver hair and steel as Victor sliced through the air, quicker than Yuuri could see.

The turned one let out a spitting, hissing noise of pain as Victor sliced clean through the arm that had stretched towards Yuuri. It didn’t have to suffer long as Victor bought his sword sharply up and round, its head flying through the air a moment later.

It had all happened so quickly that Yuuri was barely able to register the headless body of the guenelin swaying in front of him before it crumpled. He blinked, watching the growing pool of blood as his mind caught up to what had happened.

Victor turned to him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quiet and urgent as he gripped Yuuri’s arm.

Yuuri could feel his face was slack with shock and his heartbeat was thudding very fast in his chest. He looked up at Victor and nodded numbly, his eyes wide.

Victor’s gaze flickered over his face, his grip hard on Yuuri’s arm and something like panic in his eyes.

“Fucking hell,” Phichit hissed, breaking Victor’s focus on him.

Phichit was staring at the body of the turned one with wide eyes and a slightly ill look that reflected exactly how Yuuri felt.

“It’s okay,” Mila said, her voice steady and her poise taught as she cast her eyes around. “I think Victor killed it quickly enough.”

No sooner than the words had left her mouth than an unearthly, haunting wail echoed from somewhere deep in the ruins. Yuuri’s blood ran cold.

“Shit,” Yuri swore, raising his hands, both short swords drawn.

“This way!” Mila called, abandoning their attempts to be quiet as the sound of many feet thundered towards them.

She darted off across the room and the others followed her at a run. Yuuri could hear a sort of tinny ringing in his ears as he flew after Mila, his heart thudding hot and hard in a chest which felt too tight.

They were almost across the room when the first turned ones burst through the gaps in the walls. They poured out like ants, black eyes glinting in the light and teeth bared. They darted forwards on wiry limbs with a terrifying speed, black claws outstretched.

The members of The True sprang into action. Victor said something in a voice which scared Yuuri almost as much as their attackers, and something snapped from him, sparking through the air to knock down several guenelin which were quickly replaced by another wave. Mila fired arrow after arrow, most of which the guenelin were too fast for, their spindly limbs deceptively strong.

“C’mon!” Yuri yelled, grabbing the back of Yuuri’s collar and hauling him through a gap in the wall to tear through the corridor on the other side.

Yuuri ran. He could hear Phichit cursing behind him and the whistle of Mila’s arrows. Fear was thrumming through him like a live wire, and it was with a jolt of horror that Yuuri realised he was starting to see patterns in the objects around him.

“Not now,” he hissed, desperately trying to rein in his control on the wharl, digging his nails into his palms to ground himself in something physical.

They tore up the remains of the corridor. As they were nearing the end, a wave of guenelin poured in through a gap in the wall into the corridor.

“Go!” Yuri yelled, shoving Yuuri to one side as he skidded to a stop.

The blonde’s hands flashed as he drew out several throwing knives and managed to take down two turned ones in quick succession. Then his sister was there, her red hair flying as she fired arrows into the oncoming horde. Yuri bent at the same time as Mila leapt, her foot planting firmly on his back before pushing off. Yuuri caught sight of her uncoiling a whip as she flew through the air before he was running again. Trees flashed by him as he tore over the cracked floor, Phichit at his heels.

There was a spitting snarl to Yuuri’s left making him instinctively duck to his right, dodging the outstretched claws meant for his neck as Phichit threw something. The little bag hit the guenelin in its shrunken chest and went off with a bang. A cloud of black Angolian blinding powder engulfed the thing as it spat and hissed in pain.

A moment later and Victor’s sword was flashing through the air. Yuuri watched with wide eyes as Victor became a blur, felling three guenelin before Yuuri could blink and darting on to a fourth.

“This way!” came Mila’s shout, and she was tearing ahead of Yuuri and Phichit.

They darted between trees, the sound of many feet and the shrieks of the guenelin following them. Mila ducked around a corner and the others followed to see her darting down a set of stairs.

Yuuri felt very strongly that they really should not cut themselves off in a dark underground tunnel, but didn’t have time to object as the swarm of guenelin pursued them. He threw himself down the stairs after Phichit and it was at that point that he heard a cry of pain from behind him.

Yuuri turned at the same time as Mila let out the echo of the scream he’d just heard.

Blood was blossoming over Yuri’s chest. A guenelin had intercepted him and was now going to strike again as the male twin swayed slightly where he’d stumbled to a stop halfway down the stairs.

Then Victor was there, his face contorted with cold fury as a spray of blood splattering the stone wall of the tunnel and the guenelin let out a final shriek. Victor caught Yuri around the middle and hauled him the rest of the way down the stairs, the blonde going limp against him. Mila hurried back past Yuuri to catch her brother as Victor turned to cut down the guenelin that had caught up in those few crucial moments.

But Yuuri could already see it was too much. Victor was fast, but it was just him, and there were countless guenelin pouring down the stairs and into the corridor.

“Victor!” Yuuri cried, his panic tearing itself from his throat. And then  —

“Move!”

And Yuuri  _ pulled. _

The stone ceiling of the tunnel cracked and Victor threw himself out of the way as a moment later it started to rain down massive chunks of stone.

All five of them fled down the corridor as the ground shook under them with the thunder of falling rocks, Yuri stumbling over his feet as he leant heavily on Mila. There were screeches from behind them as the guenelin were caught in the shower of rocks the size of boulders.

Yuuri was gasping for air, his nails cutting into his palms as the lines of energy in everything around him swam in his vision. But he was still here.

They ran until the last of the rocks fell. The last few rocks rumbled to a stop and then they were engulfed in darkness, the tunnel silent but for their gasping breaths.

Victor uttered something and a rune of glowing light flickered into life on the wall.

Yuuri had sunk to his knees. He was drawing great lungfuls of breath and blood dripped from his hands where his nails had cut in.

“Yuuri!” Victor cried, desperation in his voice as he sunk down before him.

Yuuri looked up at him as Victor gripped his shoulders and he saw the real panic in the other man’s eyes. Victor was scared.

Yuuri felt like a dam threatening to burst. He could feel the whispering tugging on his control, reaching out to the object around him, to the  _ people _ around him. He choked on a breath.

“Stay with me, Yuuri,” Victor said, his gaze flicking over Yuuri’s face as the younger man shuddered and gasped. “You can fight this.”

“No,” Yuuri gasped, the panic rising in him, threatening to consume.

He clutched at the front of Victor’s shirt under his coat, felt the warmth of his skin through the fabric. Victor’s arms were firm around him, his grip tight, and Yuuri tried to focus on that, to feel the other man’s heartbeat under his palms.

Victor searched his eyes, and then seemed to come to a decision. His jaw tight, Victor uttered the words that had put Yuuri under twice before now.

Nothing happened.

“ Kwoth nair jahfurlim twen-frock!” Victor repeated, louder this time.

“Victor, it’s not  — it’s not working  — I can’t!”

The blood from his hands was smearing on the cream of Victor’s shirt. He was vaguely aware of the others watching, holding their breath.

“You can!” Victor said, clutching Yuuri even closer to him.

And he could see Victor’s face but he could also see the lines of the wharl running through him, the lines that he could bend, that he could break.

And that was real panic, that he could harm this man before him, more than any fear the turned ones bought him. More fear than he could handle.

So Yuuri held his breath.

And kissed him.

Victor’s mouth was warm and soft against his own. He was still for a moment as Yuuri pressed their lips hard together, Yuuri’s hands threading themselves behind Victor’s neck. And then he was kissing him back, a broken sound tearing itself from Victor’s throat as he gripped Yuuri against him.

And the roar of having Victor kiss him was louder than any din trying to break through Yuuri’s mind. It was the cacophony of waves against rocks, of that clever mouth against his own.

And something in Yuuri cracked under the weight of it, cracked under the weight of this thing that was too big for his chest.

“Ah,” Yuuri whimpered as their lips parted, and a moment later he opened his eyes.

It was just Victor before him. No wharl, no lines. Victor, looking at Yuuri with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, looking at him like he was everything in the world.

“There it is,” Yuuri said, a breathless smile curving his lips.

And then he passed out.


	12. Chapter 12

Victor sat with his back resting against the tunnel wall. Yuuri’s head was pillowed in his lap and a fire crackled before him, lighting the stone walls and their carvings with its warm glow. Beyond the circle of the fire the tunnel was dark and quiet.

A low moan came from Victor’s left where Mila was tending to her brother.

Yuri was propped up on his pack, his shirt off and sweat sticking blonde tendrils of hair to his face as he clenched his jaw. Mila murmured something low in a gentle voice, her deft fingers finishing up the last few stitches in the gash that scored across his pale chest. There had been a lot of blood.

Phichit sat to Victor’s right where they’d settled at a T-junction in the tunnel, pale and tired as he stoked the fire. He’d helped arrange Yuuri in Victor’s lap, his touch gentle as he gazed down at his unconscious friend.

Victor hadn’t been able to stop staring at the young man sleeping with his head cushioned on Victor’s legs. It had been maybe an hour but there was still heat thrumming along his skin. Every now and then he’d touch his fingers to his lips, a small smile in the place where Yuuri had kissed him.

It had been terrifying to watch Yuuri’s eyes turn white again. But this time his face had held some expression. He was still Yuuri. Even as the whispering roared through his body, he’d looked at Victor with such desperation, his face not at all like the slack, blank mask Victor had seen twice before now.

“He trusts you, you know,” Phichit murmured suddenly, breaking the long period of silence.

Victor, who already felt like he didn’t have enough room in his body to contain what he was feeling, looked up at him. Phichit was staring into the fire, his gaze distant.

“Yeah?” Victor prompted.

“Yeah,” Phichit confirmed, looking up at him after a moment. “He doesn’t let people get close to him. He’s got too much going on in his head.”

Phichit’s eyes slid back to the fire and Victor let his gaze wander back to where it wanted to be; on the sleeping face of the boy resting his head in his lap. He carded a hand through the dark locks, feeling how soft they were even after days on the road.

“He carries everything, Yuuri does,” Phichit went on, though Victor kept his gaze on where his fingers were buried in Yuuri’s hair. “Sometimes it gets too much and I think he’ll break with it. But he’s okay. He handles it.”

They were silent for a while, the crackle of the fire snapping along the logs and Yuri’s low, pained breaths the only sound.

“I think he can handle himself,” Phichit said eventually, and Victor did look up at him this time because there was something in his voice, something that was reflected in his eyes as he gazed at Victor. “But if you hurt him I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

And Victor truly believed him in that moment.

“I won’t,” Victor promised, holding Phichit’s gaze. “I think if anything he’d be the one to hurt me… I’ve never felt this vulnerable before.”

A smile cracked across Phichit’s lips.

“He only would if his head gets to be too much,” he said, turning to stoke the fire again. “And then I trust you to help him hold it all together.”

Victor nodded even though Phichit wasn’t looking at him, and went back to gazing down at Yuuri.

Yuuri’s face was less gaunt now than when they’d met. Days of having proper meals had shaped it into healthier lines, his skin tanned against the pale of Victor’s hand. The dark sweep of his eyelashes was something devastating, blessing the high cheekbones below them with shadow and fluttering slightly as he dreamed. His slow, steady breaths were a lullaby to Victor’s frayed nerves, and he slid his hand down to rest over the reassuring thud of Yuuri’s heartbeat. This feeling was dangerous in its depth.

Mila was finishing up with Yuri, his freshly stitched wound now dabbed in antiseptic oils and bound with bandages. She helped him clean his sweaty skin with a damp cloth and then eased him carefully into a fresh shirt. Yuri settled then, his breathing laboured but soothed by the herbal sleeping draft Mila had given him for the pain. He fell asleep soon after.

“How’s Yuuri?” Mila asked as she settled back, her legs crossed and her eyes still on her brother.

Victor felt a surge of warmth for her then, that she was asking even though her twin’s blood was still on her hands.

“He’s okay,” Victor said, his voice low.

“Good,” she said, then fell silent for a while.

“He saved us all,” Mila went on eventually. “Even though we’re now trapped down here.”

She turned to look at Victor, then at the young man in his lap. There was something respectful but undeniably calculating in her gaze. Victor couldn’t blame her. Yuuri’s power could tear down mountains. And he’d held it back with a kiss.

They’d collected a fair amount of kindling on their way here, anticipating long stretches in the dark of the tunnels. It kept the fire going as Victor sat with one hand on Yuuri’s heartbeat and the other in his hair. Mila made food at some point, but Victor wasn’t interested in eating.

The flame that he’d tucked inside himself had caught and was raging through him. It shuddered down his veins and turned his body into something vital. It was like waking up, suddenly aware of how meaningless he was, but also how complete. How all that mattered was the pull of this boy.

It was a few hours before Yuuri stirred in his lap. Victor watched him come awake with slow blinks. His face broke into a sleepy smile when he saw Victor gazing down at him. Something broke under Victor’s ribs.

“Hi,” Yuuri said softly, blinking up at him with those molten amber eyes.

“Hi,” Victor murmured back, unable to stop the grin that was unfolding itself across his mouth.

Yuuri’s lips parted slightly as he gazed up at Victor, something like wonder on his features. Very gently, he reached up and placed his palm against Victor’s cheek. Victor thought this more likely to kill him than the turned ones.

“Hey there sleepy head,” Phichit chirped loudly, making Yuuri start and snatch his hand away.

“Phi — Phichit, hey,” Yuuri said, blushing as he sat up.

“You feeling alright, squirt?” Phichit asked, punching Yuuri rather hard on the arm and grinning at him.

“I’m older than you,” Yuuri mumbled, rubbing the spot Phichit had hit and scowling at him. “What happened?”

“Nothing really,” Phichit supplied, handing the last of Mila’s stew to Yuuri. “We built a fire and waited for your ugly mug to wake up.”

Victor had a feeling that the extra jibes were Phichit’s way of showing his concern. He was also extra gentle as he helped Yuuri get some water and placed his glasses back on his face for him.

“How’re you feeling?” Victor asked as Yuuri settled himself against the wall to his right.

Yuuri chewed slowly before answering.

“Okay I guess,” he said eventually. “Kind of tired.”

“You did amazingly,” Victor told him, smiling warmly when Yuuri looked up in surprise.

“I was barely holding it together,” Yuuri said, a blush dusting over his nose.

“But you did hold it together,” Victor pointed out, and reached out to brush a piece of Yuuri’s hair behind his ear like he’d wanted to for so long.

Yuuri leant into the touch a little, his expression serene. Victor’s breath caught. Then Yuuri’s gaze flicked to Yuri’s still sleeping form.

“How’s he doing?” he asked, worry creasing his brow.

“He’s alright,” Mila said, from where she’d been dabbing her brother’s face with a cool cloth. “Riding will be hard on him but we can’t stay down here for too long with our food stocks.”

“Well I’m glad he’s okay,” Yuuri said, the relief evident on his face as he tucked into his food again.

Victor wasn’t paying much attention to this exchange beyond the fact that Yuuri looked all soft and sleepy at the moment. He wondered if it was too early to hold his hand.

“So what’s the plan now?” Phichit asked.

“Well honestly I don’t really know,” Mila said, looking to Victor for some sort of input.

Victor dragged his eyes away from where Yuuri was licking his spoon clean, and faced the other two.

“Er… well I guess we’ll just have to start walking?” he suggested, not missing the way Phichit was smirking at him. “Honestly this wall is huge and I’m not sure why Lilia thought we’d get answers from it. Whatever’s causing disturbance now must be similar to something that’s happened in the past, or something that’s been prophesied to happen. Both are recorded on the wall.”

They eventually agreed that they’d sleep on it and carry on in a few hours. They were getting low on kindling, so they let the fire burn low as they settled themselves into their bedrolls. No one mentioned the fact that they were buried with no visible way out. Personally Victor felt that they’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

Victor suppressed a grin as Yuuri dragged his bedroll over next to his own. Yuuri was blushing slightly as he climbed in and settled himself on his side facing Victor.

“Evening,” Victor drawled, his lip quirking up into a smirk.

“Shut up,” Yuuri shot back, and then leant over and kissed him.

It was only a quick peck, but the ease with which Yuuri had done it made Victor’s heart race. Yuuri tasted of mint paste from having just brushed his teeth. Victor could feel his own cheeks heating now, and noticed Yuuri was making a bigger deal out of getting comfortable than was necessary.

“Is that a thing we do now?” Victor asked, unable to keep the teasing out of his voice.

Yuuri looked up, momentarily worried until he saw Victor’s grin. He rolled his eyes.

“Well if you don’t want to…”

“I didn’t say that,” Victor said quickly, and, unable to help himself, he leant over and stole another kiss.

Yuuri’s face was very pink now.

“Goodnight, Victor,” Yuuri mumbled, snuggling further down into his sleeping bag.

“Goodnight, Yuuri,” Victor said softly.

“Goodnight, Phichit,” Phichit said loudly from behind them.

Victor ignored this, and watched Yuuri in the low light of the dying fire for several minutes after Yuuri’s breathing had evened out. Victor didn’t know what to do with feelings like these. He’d never been like this with someone. He’d flirted certainly, and there’d been some experimentation with that Captain’s son, but this was different. This was Yuuri.

His last comforting thought was that people did this kind of thing all the time. And even though they didn’t lead exactly normal lives, falling in love didn’t have to be as hard as everything else.

 

* * *

 

When Yuuri woke it was because Victor cast another of his light runes on the wall.

“Sorry,” Victor said guiltily, from where he knelt next to him. “They always flare brighter and then even out.”

“S’okay,” Yuuri said groggily, rubbing his eyes.

“It is not, Nikiforov, it better be morning,” Yuri’s voice snapped out from the other side of the dead fire.

“It is,” Victor confirmed, glancing at an ornate gold pocket watch in his hand.

Yuuri shifted himself into a sitting position, vaguely aware of the others stirring. He felt warm and content in a way that had nothing to do with the many layers he was wearing. He watched Victor setting about rolling up his sleeping bag, the cold blue light of his rune illuminating the angles of his face. His long limbs were graceful in every movement and his sharp cheekbones and jawline did something awful to Yuuri’s heart rate.

Victor seemed to feel Yuuri’s eyes on him because he looked up, smiled and winked at him before continuing what he was doing. Yuuri wondered if his stomach was actually trying to make an escape from his body or if the swooping feeling was normal.

He made himself focus on packing his bedroll up and washing his face with water from his canteen.

Yuuri supposed he should’ve been more unsettled by what had happened just before he’d passed out. Being aware whilst whatever power lay within him took liberties with his mind was downright terrifying. And on top of that there were still the haunting images of the turned ones.

But Victor. The fact that he’d kissed Victor, and Victor had not only kissed him back, but had done so like a man who’d been dying to do so, was so much louder than anything else right now.

It was true that now Yuuri wasn’t feeling so drained he was noticing odd things about the walls on either side of him that were slightly unsettling. When he thought about it, the only thing he could compare the pattern of energy to, was the orb back in the house of The True. But the wall was much stronger, and still different. Yuuri let his eyes wander over the carvings on its surface. There seemed almost to be a pulse in the wall. It seemed to breathe.

“Right,” Mila said, once they were packed away and Yuri was leaning heavily on her arm. “Should we just pick a direction and start walking?”

“No,” Yuuri piped up, his voice distant and his eyes on the wall. “We should go this way.”

And he took off down the tunnel to the left. He felt the others curiosity as they followed them, but no one spoke. Their way was lit by a torch Victor had fashioned and carried along with them.

Yuuri trailed a hand along the wall as he went, feeling that odd pattern from it. It almost sang with it. Was alive with it.

The tunnel was about three meters across, the walls on either side rising several feet up above their heads. Yuuri wasn’t sure why it was called the Wall of Naiyan when it seemed to resemble a maze more than anything else, but he followed it along anyway, his eyes skipping over the carvings on it. They were finely done, figures and scenes intricate were they stood out in relief. Yuuri thought he could see stories through some of them, and the energy that he felt from the wall seemed to reflect that, thudding through certain parts with a kind of rhythm that tied the carvings together.

And there was part of it that was singing to him. He could feel it, somewhere in the heart of the mountain, a rhythm made for him to find.

Victor walked alongside him. Yuuri tried not to let this distract him but it was hard when he every time he glanced over he was reminded how devastatingly handsome Victor was. Victor smiled at him when their eyes met and Yuuri tried not to trip up.

There was a comfort in what was unfolding between them. Maybe it should have been more uncertain, more guesswork and blindly hoping the other was still interested. But whatever it was that was that they were discovering, it was like coming home. It made Yuuri jittery with excitement and he could feel how his cheeks were flushed.

Yuuri coughed and focused on following whatever he was feeling from the wall.

They walked for a long time through the dark, winding tunnels. They spoke only occasionally and in hushed voices when they did. The place seemed to demand the same sort of respect as a church, the walls touching down on sacred ground.

By the time they drew near to where Yuuri could feel the energy beckoning him, Yuri’s breathing was very laboured. Yuuri turned, and saw the blonde had gone very pale. His jaw was clenched and his brow was slightly sweaty. But he hadn’t complained once.

“We’re getting close,” Yuuri said, his face crumpled in concern.

Yuri didn’t even give a snarky response, too weak to do anything more than nod wearily.

They carried on for a little while longer, Phichit now helping Mila take some of Yuri’s weight. Eventually Yuuri slowed to a stop, his hand and eyes trailing over the wall to his right.

“Something here,” he murmured to himself, his gaze raking over the carvings.

Victor came to stand beside him, bringing the wall into sharp relief with the flickering light of the torch.

“There,” he said after a moment, and Yuuri’s eyes followed to where Victor was pointing a few feet down.

They went to look at the stretch of wall Victor had indicated.

“It looks like…” Victor started, his face creased with unease.

“Yuuri it looks like you!” Phichit trilled, popping up beside the pair of them.

The figure did certainly hold a likeness to Yuuri, he couldn’t deny that. But it was hard to tell when it was picked out in stone.

“Maybe a little,” Yuuri said, unsure.

“Why else would you have followed the wall to this particular spot?” Victor pointed out, sweeping the torch light across the surface of the wall.

The figure that resembled Yuuri was standing in a square of symbols, its eyes closed and head slightly bent. Victor bought the torch close to the symbols, his mouth moving silently.

“Can you read them?” Yuuri asked, feeling slightly daunted by the possibility that he was depicted on the wall. He didn’t want to think too much about what it must mean if he was.

“Bits and pieces,” Victor said, his brow furrowed in concentration. “It would take a while to translate it all and I’m no match for the Historians at the University of Januus, but…”

Victor traced a finger over one of the symbols.

“This one means alone.”

Yuuri frowned.

“That’s cheery,” Phichit piped up.

“Yuuri’s here again,” Mila broke in from where she knelt next to her brother.

They returned to where the twins were sat on the floor, looking up at where Mila was pointing.

Yuuri’s likeness was again carved out in relief from the stone, this time side on. He had one hand extended and was touching palms with another figure. This figure was cloaked and hooded, a hint of a face visible. Something like ice slipped down Yuuri’s spine.

“What does that mean?” Yuuri asked, his voice surprisingly steady for how he felt, which was mainly as though there was a very tight band around his chest.

Victor swore under his breath, which made Yuuri turn to him in surprise. He’d never heard Victor curse.

Victor was glaring at a spot on the wall above the hooded figure. Yuuri followed his gaze and saw another symbol of some kind. It resembled an upside down triangle with two lines running parallel through it.

“It’s the mark of Graif,” he explained, pointing up at it so the others could see what he meant.

“And Graif is…?” Phichit prompted, frowning at the mark and then at Victor.

“A very bad wharl whisperer,” Victor said, something dark and angry in his eyes. “He’s like a parable for why we all follow the light, are working against the Dunner. Of course he has his followers, even you’ll have heard of the priests that act in his service. He did unbelievable things you see, some saw him as a deity in his own right. But he was just… talented. And evil.”

“I don’t understand,” Yuuri broke in, feeling very panicky now. “I thought wharl whisperers were rare and born centuries apart. If that is me, how could I be meeting Graif on the wall?”

“I don’t know,” Victor said darkly.

Mila stood up from where she’d been checking on Yuri and frowned up at the carvings.

“Here,” she said, indicating a symbol below where the two figures palms touched. “A downwards facing dagger. Conflict.”

“And here,” Victor said, pointing to another mark. “Sacrifice.”

“Yuuri,” Phichit said, not looking at the carvings but at his best friend, who had sunk back against the opposite wall.

Phichit hurried over and placed his hands gently on Yuuri’s shoulders.

“You’re okay, Yuuri, breathe with me,” Phichit murmured.

It was at that point Yuuri realised how uneven and sharp his breaths were. He’d been so concerned with how his vision seemed to be going blurry that he hadn’t been paying attention.

Phichit spoke low, comforting words as he guided Yuuri through his breathing, his hands steady on his shoulders. Eventually Yuuri calmed enough to look up at him and give him a tight half smile.

Victor was hovering at Phichit’s shoulder, concern drawn deep on his features and clearly uncertain how to help.

“I’m okay,” Yuuri reassured him. “This is just…”

“Yeah,” Phichit agreed despite his unfinished sentence.

“We don’t know what this means, Yuuri,” Victor said, drawing close to stand by Yuuri’s side.

He slipped his hand into Yuuri’s. His palm was warm and comforting, long fingers wrapping easily around Yuuri’s own.

“It doesn’t necessarily mean he’s back,” Victor went on. “I mean that’d be some feat considering he died two thousand years ago. Maybe it's just a follower of his or something, the wall’s always hard to interpret, and prophecy is uncertain.”

Yuuri nodded and stared hard at his boots.

He thought it probably was Graif, whoever he was. It would be exactly the kind of awful thing that Yuuri had been expecting ever since Lilia looked at him in that way, her eyes full of knowing.

Yuuri thought he should probably want to know more about Graif, if he was indeed supposed to have some sort of conflict with him. But instead he was just drained and felt a lot like going to sleep and ignoring all this.

“I need a little space,” he said, ducking his head so he wouldn’t have to meet Victor’s concerned gaze. “Let me know what else you find, yeah?”

Then he headed off down the tunnel, beyond the circle of light cast from the torch. He carried on for a little way, before he sat down. He could still see the others, but here he was encased in the calm, cool darkness. Yuuri let his head tip back to rest against the wall.

It was unfair, he realised. Why couldn’t all this happen to someone else? Hadn’t he lost enough already? And surely there was someone out there better suited to all this. Better at handling themselves and not likely to crack under the pressure. Yuuri had enough trouble holding himself together on a regular day, he didn’t need this too.

And wouldn’t it have been nice if there was somewhere he could go to get his head straight in the midst of this? Somewhere like a home. And someone to take care of him when he got there.

The others left him alone for a while, studying the wall and discussing it amongst themselves. Their voices were low and distant, and Yuuri enjoyed the illusion of solitude. Eventually the other four settled down and used the remainder of their kindling to start a fire.

Yuuri was only distantly aware of all this, lost in his own thoughts as he sat in the dark. It was a surprise when torchlight fell on him, and he looked up to see Victor standing over him.

“Hey,” Victor said gently, and then motioned to the spot beside Yuuri. “May I sit?”

“Sure,” Yuuri agreed, finding he didn’t mind Victor’s company even though he’d sought solitude.

Victor sat, placing the torch on the ground before them, where it burned against the stone.

They were quiet for a little while, both of them watching the flames.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Victor asked eventually.

Yuuri weighed this up, and then shook his head.

“Okay,” Victor said. “Can I hold your hand?”

Yuuri suppressed the smile that wanted to split across his face, and flipped his hand over between them so it was palm up. Victor’s hand slid into his for the second time. Yuuri’s face and neck felt hot.

It was funny, how Victor could reduce him to something blushing and silly when he’d been so worried a moment ago. Everything else seemed to fade away in his presence, a balm for Yuuri’s nerves and an answering voice in the dark. It was like nothing Yuuri had ever felt.

“Firelight suits you,” Victor said softly, and Yuuri turned to him, ready to blurt something stupid before he managed to stop himself.

Victor smiled at him.

“Of course every light suits you, how could it not,” Victor went on, clearly enjoying the way Yuuri was quickly becoming a blushing mess. “But the way you wear firelight… your skin’s like gold.”

“V-Victor,” Yuuri protested, feeling every bit a shy puddle of a man rather than the sharp professional thief he was supposed to be.

“And don’t get me started on your eyes,” Victor continued, a grin spreading mischievously across his face. “They’re like honey, or a  —”

“Stop!” Yuuri cut across him, clapping a hand over Victor’s mouth.

Victor’s eyes were bright with pleasure as he looked at him over the hand. Yuuri could feel his smirk. Yuuri dropped his hand.

“You’re one to talk,” he grumbled, resolutely turning back to the fire and ignoring Victor’s grin.

“Oh yeah?” Victor prompted, leaning in close so his breath played over Yuuri’s neck. “Do you think I’m pretty, Yuuri?”

Yuuri shivered and shoved Victor away from him. Victor retreated willingly with a laugh.

Yuuri of course did think Victor was pretty. In fact he thought Victor was the prettiest person he’d ever met. He couldn’t help glancing at him then, his gaze raking over the high cheekbones, the sharp jaw, the way his hair fell soft and moon bright over one of those dazzling blue eyes.

Victor smirked like he knew what Yuuri was thinking and Yuuri quickly looked away. They fell back into silence then, but Yuuri realised some of the pressure in his chest had dissipated.

“It’s just so much,” Yuuri whispered eventually. “Sometimes I feel like I’ll break... even before all of this happened I felt that way. But now this…”

It felt okay to admit how fragile he felt then. Saying it in the half light made it sound softer than it felt.

“I know it’s a lot,” Victor said, squeezing Yuuri’s hand quickly.

“It’s more than a lot,” Yuuri returned bitterly, glaring at the fire. “It’s more than any one person should have to deal with alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Victor said. Then when Yuuri didn’t respond, “Yuuri, you’re not alone.”

He tugged on Yuuri’s hand, making him turn to look at him. Yuuri gazed into those blue eyes for a few long moments, knew he was seeing complete and utter sincerity there, and then gave Victor a wobbly smile.

“Thanks,” he said, meaning it. “But none of you were up on that wall with me.”

Victor’s mouth fell open slightly in surprise, but Yuuri was already getting to his feet.

“It smells like Phichit’s making something experimental with the last of the rabbit meat,” he said, offering a hand down to pull Victor to his feet. “We should go make sure he doesn’t poison us all.”

Victor looked like he wanted to protest, but Yuuri just gave him a weary smile and a little shake of his head. Victor pressed his lips together. He accepted Yuuri’s hand and didn’t let go of it as he collected the torch and they headed back down the tunnel to rejoin the others. Yuuri was grateful for this. Grateful that Victor felt like a solid presence at his side. Grateful that he seemed willing to follow Yuuri into the dark.

And when he sat down amongst the others, he realised that they too wore expressions that told him they’d be there, and would protect him as best they could. It gave him a little reprieve from the weight of what the wall had hinted at, at everything that had been put on his shoulders. And he managed to join in with their chatter, a little lighter in heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just in: two kicky boys turn into absolute dorks as soon as they kiss.
> 
> Also Phichit you're a little shit.


	13. Chapter 13

After so long in the dark, Victor was starting to feel a little claustrophobic. Phichit seemed to have it the worst, making an effort not to show it but clearly going a little mad down in the tunnels.

They copied down as much as they could from the stretch of wall on which Yuuri and Graif were perhaps depicted. They took rubbings of as many of the symbols as they could, having bought charcoal and paper for this purpose, and Victor sketched out little replicas of the rest.

“I feel like I’m five years old again,” Yuuri said, kneeling down to take a rubbing of a section of symbols

He seemed to have cut himself off from what was actually depicted on the wall and was focusing instead on the task at hand.

Victor chuckled as he sketched.

Yuri of course did not join in for this. He sat, looking drained and pale as he watched them work. Mila had changed his bandages shortly before, and was happy to see that the wound, although nasty, seemed to still be clean.

Victor was trying not to think about what the carvings on the wall could mean. He’d known all along of course, that Yuuri held the answer to what they were dealing with. But seeing his likeness there on the stone, knowing that he may have to face trials the like of which the rest of them had never seen, was just too much. Whatever answers Victor had expected from coming here, he’d been telling himself they couldn’t be as damning as this.

When they’d copied down as much as possible from the wall, they packed their paper and charcoal away and slung their packs onto their shoulders.

“Where to now?” Phichit asked, looking first to Victor and then to Yuuri.

Yuuri’s face screwed up slightly as he thought. Victor resisted the urge to kiss the little crease between his eyebrows. An entirely inappropriate action for the situation. Of course.

“Sorry,” he sighed after a moment. “I’m only getting stuff from this section of the wall. The rest is… well it’s not quiet, but I can’t seem to see a way out. It’s vast, and mazelike.”

Victor considered this for a moment.

“Yuuri, do you think you’d be able to get a read on where the rock wall is thinnest? Like between the tunnel and the outside?”

Yuuri thought about this for a moment, apparently testing what he could feel.

“Y-Yes,” he said after a little while, not sounding sure of himself at all.

He looked a little helplessly at Victor.

“Do you think you could control your whispering enough to be able to tunnel out?” Victor asked. “Obviously trying to avoid the Fair Palace if we can.”

Victor realised the weight of the expectation he was laying on Yuuri, the level of finesse it would take to tunnel out without causing a cave in.

Yuuri blinked, looking surprised and a little nervous.

“I don’t know,” he said, his eyes flicking to Phichit.

The dark haired boy nodded at his friend, looking eager.

“I reckon you can do it, Yuuri,” he said happily, reaching out and giving Yuuri’s hand a little squeeze.

“But what if I lose control?” Yuuri said, sounding a little frantic. “What if Victor can’t put me to sleep again and I blast apart everything in a fifty mile radius? Because honestly that’s what it feels like the whispering wants to do sometimes. It’s hungry.”

Victor suspected not all of that was supposed to come out, and he watched Yuuri clamp his mouth shut.

“Well then I guess you’ll just have to kiss Victor again,” Phichit said, grinning evilly at Yuuri.

Yuuri smacked him on the arm, blushing furiously.

“I’m willing to pay that price,” Victor said somberly, before he broke into a grin as Yuuri gave him a smack too.

“Not to put a damper on things,” Yuri said dryly, and they turned to see him looking a little green. “But there’s a very real possibility that I’m going to throw up.”

Mila, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, suddenly looked guilty and knelt next to him.

“It’s probably the smoke from the fire,” she said, touching a hand to Yuri’s forehead. “I don’t know how much ventilation there is down here.”

“Yes we should get outside,” Victor agreed, then turned back to Yuuri. “Lead the way, Yuuri.”

Yuuri looked unsure for a moment. He took a breath, then closed his eyes to concentrate. It was a few moments before he opened them again.

“Okay,” he said, his voice quiet and a little frown on his face. “Okay I think I’ve got it.”

Yuuri took off in the opposite direction from the way they come. The other four followed, Yuri a little more steady on his feet now but still leaning heavily on his sister.

Victor wanted to walk with Yuuri, but Phichit was beside him instead and Victor realised he should probably let them have time together too. They didn’t seem to be talking, Yuuri clearly needing to focus on reading the mountain, but he imagined that Phichit was a soothing presence for him.

Victor instead fell back to help Mila take some of Yuri’s weight.

“I don’t need your help too,” Yuri grumbled, but still clung rather hard to Victor’s arm.

Victor smiled and ignored him.

It was funny, Yuri used to be such a happy child. He and his sister were at the house of The True more often as children, sometimes staying for long periods of time whilst their parents were away. At other times they’d go with their parents, roaming the wild areas of Toarin and learning how to hunt and fight.

As a child, Yuri had been starstruck by Victor. He’d been excited over Victor’s speed, watched him wide eyed as Victor did combat training in the weapons room. When Yuri wasn’t with his sister, he’d be trailing around after Victor, asking him questions and copying the things he did.

But as he’d got older, Yuri had gotten surlier and more removed. Victor thought it had something to do with how distant his and Mila’s parents were, or perhaps what was expected from them at such a young age. Maybe it was just being a teenager. Whatever the case, it had been a long time since Yuri had looked at him with wide, wonder filled eyes.

“How’re you holding up?” Victor asked, quiet enough that Yuri wouldn’t feel embarrassed.

Yuri grimaced as he limped along, slightly hunched as he tried not to pull on his stitches.

“Okay,” he grunted. “Hurts like a bitch.”

“You can have more capsaicine tea in a bit,” Mila assured him. “It’s too early for it after your last dose.”

Yuri only nodded, his jaw tight as he carried on walking without complaint. Victor noticed how clammy his hand felt, how much pain Yuri must really be in after sustaining such an injury, and felt a swell of pride and warmth for him. Yuri could be a brat, but he was tough.

“We’ll have to stop off to resupply on the way back,” Victor said, trying to distract Yuri from the pain. “As good as you and Mila are at the whole hunter gatherer thing, I could do with something that’s not cooked in one pot.”

Yuri snorted and scoffed something about Victor being soft. Victor grinned. Mila shot him a grateful smile over Yuri’s head, and Victor was struck, as he so often was, by how different the twins were despite spending so much time in each others’ heads.

They walked for a long while, but not nearly as far as they had whilst Yuuri was following whatever pull he felt from the wall before. Eventually the pair ahead slowed, and Yuuri walked along a stretch of wall to his left, tilting his head as though listening to it.

Victor watched him fondly, saw how he was tuning himself into his powers. It wasn’t nearly as scary as when Victor had seen him exercising them before. It was good. It felt like progress.

Yuuri walked one way, and then back the other, coming to a stretch of wall that depicted a horde of animals of some kind. Yuuri frowned at the carvings.

“Is it right to destroy them?” he asked, turning to the members of The True with a worried expression. “This wall feels… I dunno sacred or something. Is it right that I just blast a bit of it apart?”

“Yuuri, we are not going to die down here just because of some sacred scribblings,” Mila said, shifting her weight slightly so her brother was better supported. “The wall is huge, who knows how long we’d have to wander to find an actual exit. Blast it.”

Yuuri looked surprised by this outburst, but nodded and turned back to the wall. Yuri, who’d apparently exerted himself enough, slid down to the floor between Victor and Mila. And after a moment, Yuuri did the same.

The young, dark haired man arrange himself on the floor cross legged, and reached his hands out to place on the stone surface. Victor drew up next to him.

“Can I help in any way?” Victor asked, bending to speak low to Yuuri.

“I don’t think so, no,” Yuuri sighed. “In fact it would be better if no one touched me. I need to focus… but stay close.”

The latter part of that sentence seemed to tear itself slightly desperately from Yuuri. Victor tried not to feel too pleased by how much Yuuri needed him, and sank to the floor to sit behind him. Phichit settled on Yuuri’s other side. He wasn’t looking as confident as he had when he’d encouraged Yuuri earlier. And when his gaze flicked to Victor, Victor knew what Phichit was thinking. If Victor hadn’t been able to knock Yuuri out last time, would their other measures to prevent him losing control be enough for this trickier task?

Whatever was in store for them, Victor was pleased to see something loosen in Yuuri’s shoulders with their presence beside him. He bowed his head.

After a long moment of silence, Yuuri swore.

“Are you alright?” Victor asked, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him.

“I can’t… get it,” Yuuri said through gritted teeth. “It’s not instinctual like it is when I’m in danger. It’s more slippery.”

Victor hummed in understanding and fell silent to let Yuuri continue. Yuuri’s posture was rigid again, his fingertips turning white where they pressed against the rock. When Yuuri’s breathing went ragged, Phichit piped up.

“Yuuri…” he said gently, edging closer to him.

“It’s just… gah,” Yuuri huffed out, dropping his hands from the wall and pressing them instead to his own face. “I can feel the mountain. And if I don’t want to bring the tunnel down on our heads in the process I need to do more than just release.”

“How about we try something else?” Victor suggested, taking Yuuri’s hunched shoulders in his hands and drawing him around to face him.

Yuuri came, letting Victor rub the tension away until he just looked tired. Then Victor cupped his cheek and drew his face up. It was so easy now, so good to be allowed to do this. Yuuri’s chin was slightly rough from not shaving that morning, but his eyes were soft as he met Victor’s.

“Read me,” Victor suggested.

Yuuri’s lips fell open slightly in surprise.

“You mean  — like…”

“Yes,” Victor nodded. “Read the pattern of the wharl running through me. Get a grip on that aspect first and then you’ll be able to manipulate the whispering more easily.”

Yuuri searched his face, his own showing fear and uncertainty.

“You won’t hurt me,” Victor assured him. “You couldn’t.”

Yuuri sagged, apparently trusting this at least. He nodded limply.

It didn’t particularly feel like good progress. Not when Yuuri looked so defeated and wary. But Victor took both his hands anyway, and tried to arrange his expression into something confident and reassuring.

Yuuri took a few slow, measured breaths. Then he looked up.

There was a few breathless moments when all they did was look at each other, both their jaws set, pulses racing. Then Victor gasped.

Yuuri’s eyes were white. His mouth had fallen open slightly but as Victor looked him over he could still see Yuuri there, could still see the expression in his features.

“I’ve  — I’ve got it,” Yuuri panted, apparently straining to remain in control.

It was hard to tell with his lack of irises, but his gaze seemed to rake over Victor’s face.

“I can see you…” Yuuri was breathless as he spoke, and a moment later a smile spread, slow and sweet over his features. It loosed something in Victor, and he felt a flood of relief. It was still scary, seeing Yuuri’s eyes like that, but he was here, he was still Yuuri.

“Hi,” Yuuri said, reaching a hand up and tracing it along Victor’s jaw.

“Hi,” Victor returned, breaking into a grin himself as Yuuri’s eyes took in whatever he was seeing.

Yuuri didn’t seem to be able to stop staring, apparently overcome with the pattern of the wharl running through Victor now that he wasn’t distracted by danger.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor heard Mila and Phichit laughing, and this seemed to distract Yuuri for a moment. Something in his face folded, and he looked momentarily panicked. He squeezed Victor’s hands, apparently struggling again.

“It’s alright,” Victor murmured, squeezing back. “You’ve got this. Can you take a look around?”

Yuuri nodded, but still took a little while longer to break his gaze from Victor. When he did look away, his eyes roved over the tunnel.

“Oh wow,” he breathed. Then he laughed.

“What does it look like?” Victor asked, watching Yuuri as his head swivelled around trying to look at everything.

“Beautiful,” Yuuri mumbled, still holding tight to Victor’s hands. “So many colours… if that’s the right word, they don’t really have... I never really appreciated it, I couldn’t...”

Victor let him continue for a while, and then Yuuri seemed to focus himself.

“Thank you,” he said quietly as he dropped Victor’s hands. “I think I’m okay now.”

And Victor felt his heart twist with him as Yuuri turned back to the tunnel wall, lay his hands on it, and released his breath in one long exhale. The sigh seemed to carry on from Yuuri in a pulse that cracked the stone in front of him. The rumble echoed through the tunnel, and Victor felt the floor shake beneath him.

Phichit made a slightly startled noise, but Yuuri was on a roll now. The floor beneath where he sat seemed to ripple, and then Yuuri was doing more than just blasting through the rock, he was bending it, pushing it.

“Holy shit,” Victor heard Yuri mutter from behind him, as they watched the wall in front of Yuuri tremble and reshape itself, stone moving in a way that should not be possible.

The four of them watched, mouths open, as the crack in front of Yuuri widened, rippled out. In some places the rock was simply crumbling, but in others it was undulating away, more like a liquid than solid.

Victor was so distracted by the downright weird way the rock was moving, that it took him a moment to realise Yuuri was shaking.

“Don’t,” Phichit said, just as Victor was about to move forward. “Don’t touch him.”

Victor turned to him, but Phichit was busy looking at Yuuri. Victor looked back at him and saw instantly what Phichit meant.

The air around Yuuri was trembling. It seemed to throb with some sort of energy, distorting the shapes around it. It was far more menacing than the massive stone wall that Yuuri was knocking through. And Victor suddenly understood that to touch Yuuri now could make him slip, release that lethal looking energy humming so close to him.

Victor sat back, resigned to watch Yuuri struggle as the tunnel continued to rumble with the new passage he was making. He could smell stone dust and a new layer where the rock was damp. Victor only looked away from Yuuri when Mila let out a shout, turning to see daylight. Yuuri had reached the outside. But he was also shaking badly now.

“Yuuri,” Victor said, not daring to get closer but trying to reach him anyway. “Yuuri, can you hear me?”

Yuuri released a pained noise and shook his head. Victor decided it was enough. He got to his feet and glanced at the end of the passage Yuuri had opened. It was wide enough for them to get through.

“Yuuri, you’ve done it,” Victor said, stepping as close as he dared. “You can stop now.”

Yuuri was breathing hard. He folded his arms back into himself and bent so his forehead nearly touched the floor. The rock was still warping, falling away, the hole getting wider.

“Yuuri,” Phichit said sharply, also getting to his feet. “Pull it back.”

“I’m trying,” Yuuri choked out.

“Yuuri, look at me,” Victor demanded.

Yuuri just shook his head. Then he placed his hands on the floor in front of him and retched, his body contracting as he gagged. But nothing came out.

“Yuuri,” Victor said louder this time. “Look at me.”

Yuuri shuddered. And finally turned.

There were tears staining his face, falling from those bright white eyes that seemed to shine in the dark of the tunnel. Victor met his terrified gaze, his own steady. He would not let it take him.

“Pull it back,” he said simply. Calm, the rock for Yuuri to break against, to hold onto.

And Yuuri’s whole body seemed to tremble, and then he slumped. The tunnel around them stopped shaking, the hole in the wall stopped widening, only a few small rocks falling as everything went still. And Yuuri’s eyes were brown.

Yuuri stared up at Victor for a few moments, and then  —

“Ew!” Phichit squealed, jumping back as Yuuri turned and threw up on the floor.

Victor lowered himself back down, crouching next to Yuuri to rub his back in slow soothing circles. Yuuri sat hunched and shivering for a few moments before turning back to Victor. His face was very pale.

“Sorry, that was gross,” he said weakly, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Don’t be stupid,” Victor said. “You bent it, the rock, you did more than blast it apart. And you held it back, you’re still here.”

Yuuri nodded but didn’t look like he really took any of it in. Victor and Phichit helped him to his feet, and then with getting his toothbrush out of his bag.

Mila had gone to inspect the hole. It was about five meters across, and carried on for quite a way until it eventually made it to daylight far at the other end.

“Cripes you’re powerful, kid,” she said, turning and beaming at Yuuri. “Until now Lilia was our greatest asset, but you’re really something.”

Yuuri nodded to show his appreciation, his toothbrush hanging limply from his mouth.

“I say we take it easy when we get out there,” Phichit said, eyeing his friend. “Get away from this place and then pack it in for the day.”

It was nice, Phichit getting involved in their planning in a way he’d avoided so far. Victor watched him help Yuuri wash his mouth out and felt a surge of appreciation for the younger man.

After they’d gathered themselves, they started down the new passage. The walls of this tunnel were different to the ones they’d come from, for one thing they weren’t straight, but rather the whole thing was round. They were also covered in divots, like the surface of windswept water.

Victor and Phichit stayed on either side of Yuuri to help him navigate the uneven ground, whilst behind them Mila helped Yuri along. When they made it outside, they saw that they’d come out on a slope. They blinked, dazzled by the sun and the bright snow after so long in the dark.

No path was visible, but the ground didn’t rise to steeply, and their only obstacles were bushes and trees. Mila got out her compass.

“We’re on the west side of the mountain,” she informed them. “That would make the Palace towards those boulders. I think we can avoid it altogether and find the horses without too much trouble if the ground stays even.”

The others agreed, and they started off, Phichit holding Yuuri’s hand and Victor hovering near the other two in case Yuri needed more help.

The sky was patchy, great clouds sweeping across it offering long periods of shade before the cold Autumn sun would again break through. It was quite lovely when the snow glittered in the light. Victor took a deep breath of the fresh air, and felt better for the first time since seeing the carvings on the wall.

It was slow going getting around the mountain. And when they were finally back on the path that had lead them up to the Fair Palace, it was longer still to find the horses. Whilst the horses were well trained not to run off, they had wandered to find food on this sparse terrain.

“Hey girl,” Victor said to Hekai, once they’d found the five horses nibbling at bushes under the cover of pine trees.

Hekai whinied, sounding less than impressed with the situation, and Victor quickly gave her the last few carrots he had in the bottom of his bag. When he turned, he was surprised to see Jayik nuzzling Yuuri.

The usually suspicious and contrary horse had tucked her nose into the line of Yuuri’s shoulder, and was mouthing at his coat. Yuuri was giving her tired, distracted pats, his mouth pressed into a wobbly line. And it was at that moment that Victor realised Jayik was probably the smartest of them all. Yuuri was barely holding it together.

So it was that Victor rode close to Yuuri for what was left of the day, keeping an eye on the slumped line of his shoulders, the sag of his bent head.

Yuuri was barely able to keep his eyes open when they stopped, even though they hadn’t been able to ride for long, late in the day as it was. He managed to gulp some food down, and then laid out his bedroll and promptly fell asleep in it. Victor sat beside him, listening to the others chat and watching the sun dip towards the horizon, streaking the clouds with colour over the mountains.

They set the tarp up on its side to act as a wind breaking wall and kept the fire built up to keep away the chill of the night. And when Victor lay down next to Yuuri in the dark, it was with his body curled towards his and his hand stretching across the distance between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Capsaicin is the active ingredient in chilli peppers and used in western pain medicine. The more you know.
> 
> I don't usually do this, but next chapter: KATSUDAMN EROS MODE ENGAGED.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all comments and kudos! You make a slightly mad writer very happy x

It was odd to be back in the saddle again. And just as sore as ever. The next day Yuuri rode with Phichit chatting happily at his side and pointing at each new spectacular view as they started the long trip back to Lillenwyn. His time under the mountain had left him drained and worried, but Yuuri was trying not to think about it, making an effort to look at each new vista as it opened out before him.

The peaks here were intimidating in their beauty. Stark angles with dramatic contrasts of dark stone and white snow. The pine trees did little to soften them, and on the afternoon of their first full day of riding, it started to snow.

“Yuuri!” Phichit said excitedly. “Yuuri look at the sparkly skyflakes!”

“Ew,” Yuuri laughed, watching Phichit stick out his tongue to catch the snow. “I wish you wouldn’t call it that, makes it sound like dandruff.”

Phichit just laughed and tore his glove off to watch the clumps melt against his bare skin.

Snow was rarer in Lillenwyn. Although it did happen every year, the heat and pollution of the city meant there was usually only a thin layer of the stuff. Here it fell in great fluffy chunks that promised a thick covering.

“We should get off the road,” Yuri said from where he rode behind them. “If this picks up it’ll be hard for the horses.”

“Oh you are a spoilsport, baby Yuri,” Phichit trilled, picking up his pace a bit so he could canter around Yuuri.

Yuuri heard Yuri grumbling some very creative curses at Phichit and grinned. Then he buried his face in his scarf because his nose felt like it was about to freeze off.

“Yuri is right,” Victor joined in, coming up to ride beside Phichit. “There’s a settlement in the valley of Irosha. We should head for that.”

Yuuri wasn’t sure why at this point Victor offered him a slightly bashful smile, but he smiled back anyway.

It took them most of the day to get to Irosha Valley after that. Victor spent it chatting to Yuuri.

Their conversations had a different air about them now there was this thing between them. The tension had snapped, and all of Yuuri’s sentences came easily. Victor was now as trusted as Phichit. There were touches, simple ones, like a brush of a hand over his own when they got close enough, or a light touch to his knee as Victor pretended to check Yuuri’s saddle. Yuuri smiled, and let himself enjoy them.

He also caught Victor watching him more. In the moments they were silent, he’d look up, feeling Victor’s eyes on him, and Victor would let a slow, lazy smile uncurl over his lips as he dragged his gaze shamelessly up Yuuri’s form. It made Yuuri blush.

By the time the five of them reached the settlement in Irosha it was late, and the market they’d been hoping to catch had long since packed up. They searched instead for an inn for food, diverting from the wide mountain pass this village had grown around to dive into the little backstreets.

They found one that looked welcoming enough; a lopsided old thing between two houses, the front of which tilted out over the narrow street below. The five of them went around back to stable the horses, tipping the stable hand generously enough to ensure good feed and bedding for them, before they returned to the front.

The inn seemed to have half the town in its downstairs room, merry and a little rowdy as they sat bathed in firelight. Yuuri basked for a moment at the glorious heat from the hearth, the comfort of four walls around him, and the delicious smell of slow roasting meat.

“I can smell pastry,” Phichit said dreamily. “Damn I forgot how much I love pastry.”

Yuuri laughed and pointed to a chalkboard which had the entire list of all three items on the menu.

“Well then you’re in luck,” he said. “They have gammon pie.”

Yuuri thought he heard Phichit say something along the lines of “get in my belly you juicy little pig,” as he rushed past, but he couldn’t be sure.

Victor had diverted off to the bar, his hair a bright beacon among the earthy tones of the town’s people. Yuuri almost laughed as he saw a group of men staring with apparent confusion at the tall beanstalk that had just placed himself beside them at the bar. Shaking his head, Yuuri turned to follow Phichit and the other two to a table they’d found under a snow-packed window. They chatted with renewed energy, their cheeks flushing from the warmth of the fire and slightly giddy to be around other people. Victor rejoined them after not too long.

“I got us some rooms,” he announced, flipping a spare chair around from the table next to them and settling in next to Yuuri.

“Oh did you now?” Phichit drawled, his face lighting up as he looked suggestively between Yuuri and Victor.

Yuuri choked slightly and waved the barmaid over so he wouldn’t have to look at his best friend.

“Yes, I think it’s best with the way it’s snowing out there,” Victor said matter-of-factly.

Phichit just made a knowing noise that made Yuri snort with disgust before ordering the largest tankard of ale the barmaid had to offer.

“Hey,” Mila chided, then seemed to have an internal conversation with her brother which caused Yuri to say:

“And this will help with the pain too, stop worrying.”

The rest of them ordered also, Phichit adding a dessert on to his which wasn’t strictly on offer but could be cobbled together, and they settled back to chatting and watching the other patrons.

“I heard some things whilst I was at the bar,” Victor said, his eyes darting around the group. “There’s been attacks, quite a few of them, definitely an increase in activity from the dunner. And they’ve been strange too, not your usual attacks, some of them like they’ve been strategic.”

“Which would be odd,” Mila said, “if we didn’t know that the dunner are getting their intelligence back.”

“Yes,” Victor said impatiently. “What I meant was that they’ve been strategic on a larger scale. Places of importance have been hit, not just opportunistically.”

“So it’s not just like the dunner are growing more intelligent,” Yuri said slowly, his gaze on the flickering candle on their table, “it’s as though they’re being organised.”

“Exactly,” Victor said, nodding along. “A lot of these places have been set up as points of contact with Lillenwyn and as strategic defence of Toarin overall. They were originally outposts of The True. Of course we’re half forgotten now, what we stood for is mostly believed to be myth so they’re more militaristic or educational now.”

“But someone who knew the might of The True,” Mila rejoined, her eyes going dark with worry and a hint of anger, “who had experienced it thousands of years ago, would still see us as a threat.”

Yuuri’s heart was a staccato rhythm in his chest. His throat felt tight and he had the sudden sensation that he was on a fixed path that he couldn’t divert from. One that would lead him directly over the edge of a cliff. And just like that, it was too much. And he was bored of it.

“Phichit,” he said, standing up so abruptly that his friend startled. “Let’s go dance.”

“But —” Phichit said, looking torn. “Our food…”

“We’ll come back when they bring it over,” Yuuri said, eyeing a young man who looked like a travelling minstrel sat in the corner. “Right now I’d like some music. Come on.”

And without waiting for Phichit to join him, Yuuri turned and strode off between the busy tables.

He’d officially had it. Couldn’t they let him have one good night to just relax and forget about all this? No apparently not, so Yuuri was going to drink and dance and eat and to hell with them.

He exchanged a few quick words and a couple of coins with the minstrel, who was all too happy to oblige his request and started plucking a lively tune on his lyre.

There were a group of several men and a couple of women who turned at the sound. They looked just the right side of drunk. Yuuri span and flashed them a smile and they cheered, one of the women getting up instantly and extending a hand to him. Yuuri took it, and spun her into a dance.

It wasn’t long until he had half the bar joining in. Clearly people had been itching for it. Tables were pushed back and drinks spilt as couples span and switched and danced with each other. Phichit laughed, his pie forgotten as he span Yuuri round, and then joined him in the fastest jig their feet could manage, causing a wave of applause.

It had worked. Yuuri’s head was gloriously empty of anything except the drinks being handed to him and the heat of his body as he danced. He felt a savage stab of satisfaction.

When he returned to the table, his eyes were bright and he was out of breath. He sat down with a sigh and grinned as he tucked into his now cold pie. When he looked up, Victor was watching him.

“What?” Yuuri snapped, then realised how short he sounded and paused. He hadn’t snapped like that at Victor in a long time.

“You look…” Victor trailed off, and then simply smiled at him, his face bursting with unconcealed happiness.

Yuuri desperately held onto his annoyance for a moment longer… and then it snapped. He unfurled, his shoulders relaxing as he spread himself towards Victor and easily took his hand. With a couple of drinks in him it was the simplest thing to lay a kiss on Victor’s knuckles. And now Victor was the one blushing for a change.

“Ugh,” Yuri said, rolling his eyes at this display. “Mila help me up to the rooms, I’m finished eating and I really don’t want to see my food make a reappearance.”

Mila only laughed at this and shot a fond smile at the pair of them, before helping her brother up and away from the table.

“I love dancing,” Yuuri said after the other two had departed, revelling at this easy heat between them. “And there’s so much uninhabited freedom in it when it’s done like this.”

Victor cheeks only darkened further, a bashful tilt to his head as his eyes flicked over Yuuri.

“You move beautifully,” he murmured, his voice thick. “You’re like music yourself, so fluid even in a barroom dance.”

Yuuri caught himself on the verge of preening, so unlike him to accept praise this easily.

“I used to dance all the time before…” he trailed off, and quickly had to catch his mood as it spiralled away from him. Yuuri reeled it back in. “I even had a dance instructor, Minako. She was amazing, moved away to perform when I was nine. She was stunning, so tall and graceful, built a lot like you actually.”

Yuuri felt a warm burst of pride in the look this elicited from Victor.

“I don’t know what to do with you like this,” Victor said after a moment, looking helpless. “I can’t think. It’s like when we first met, except without the anger and your guard up.”

Yuuri slanted him a look, considering.

“Well I was annoyed,” he pointed out, shrugging as he took another bite of pie. “You bringing up all that stuff about the dunner. I just wanted one night.”

“I’m sorry,” Victor said, and he looked it too.

His free hand smoothed up the length of the arm Yuuri held his hand with, rubbing comforting little circles into his muscles. Yuuri let out an involuntary groan.

“Gods, you’re good with your hands,” he muttered, then flushed, realising how that sounded.

A wicked sharp smirk broke across Victor’s face. But he only hummed.

“You’re tense from riding,” he said, his eyes flicking down to where his thumbs were rubbing firm circles in Yuuri’s bicep.

Yuuri nodded, taking a sip of dark wine to distract himself.

“How’s the rest of your body?”

Yuuri coughed on the wine.

“Fine,” he spluttered once he’d managed to compose himself.

Victor was still grinning knowingly at him.

“Would you…” Yuuri gulped and tried to gather himself. “Would you like to help me with that too?”

A delightedly surprised laugh startled itself from Victor. That sharp grin of his was something tragic.

“Oh Yuuri,” he said, his voice dangerously low and instantly making Yuuri feel like a puddle. “I can’t imagine anything I’d rather do.”

They stood from the table together, gathering their packs as they did. Yuuri thought that Phichit was having too good of a time to notice them slipping away together, but the young man’s head perked up and he let out an obnoxiously loud wolf whistle. Yuuri flashed him a very rude hand gesture that made Phichit cackle, and then followed Victor to the stairs to one side of the bar.

Victor was collecting a heavy looking key from a round faced, balding man. Then the pair of them were climbing the stairs.

Yuuri could hear his own breaths as the noises from the bar dimmed, slightly short, a little uneven. Victor lead him along the corridor above to a solid door of dark wood. Victor unlocked it, and they slipped inside.

The room had been prepared for guests. There was already a fire burning in the grate, and the high bed was turned down with a soft duvet and heavy throws. The roughly plastered walls rose to a ceiling of bare timber, and there was a comfortable looking armchair set beside the fireplace.

“This is nice,” Yuuri said. “I mean it’s nice that I get to do this. My parents inn was much bigger, but this is cosy.”

“Where was your family’s inn?” Victor asked, his voice carefully light as he took Yuuri’s pack and laid it down next to his own.

“In Grevorjin,” Yuuri replied, turning to place his coat on the hook behind the door and rolling his shoulders in relief. “It did very well too. My mum made the best pork cutlet bowl, and people would come for her cooking alone. We got things imported so we could mix eastern styles with local. It’s one of the things I miss most, I…”

Suddenly Yuuri’s eyes were swimming and there was a lump in his throat. It came like this sometimes. Vicious and sudden, where other times it was easy to talk about them.

Victor must’ve heard the hitch in his voice, because a moment later there were strong arms being wrapped around his midriff, a cheek pressed to the crown of his head.

“You miss them,” Victor stated, picking up where Yuuri left off, his voice rumbling through his chest into Yuuri’s back.

Yuuri nodded, throat still tight. He blinked at the hooks on the wall, trying to clear his vision.

“They feel very present tonight,” he whispered after a moment. “Probably because of the inn. But I think they’ve been in the back of my mind particularly since all this started… what did they know about it all?”

“I wish I could answer that Yuuri,” Victor said. “And I will help you find those answers if you want to when all this is over.”

Yuuri felt something click into place inside him. It was the first time, other than a cursory acknowledgement of the fact that Yuuri was welcome at the house of The True, that Victor had spoke of plans beyond their current mission. Yuuri turned in his arms.

The kiss he gave Victor was firm and soft all at once, his hands tangling in silver hair as Victor let out a little whine and drew Yuuri flush against him. They had never kissed like this. Hot, needy, and just a little bit raw.

When they broke apart Yuuri was panting, and he was thrilled to see that Victor’s hair was sticking up where his hands had been buried in it.

“Bath,” Yuuri managed to gasp out, just as Victor went to dive back into the kiss.

Victor looked at him with eyes that had darkened to almost black with pupil. Yuuri’s demand didn’t stop Victor from pushing him briefly against the wall behind him, crushing their bodies together as he spoke.

“Yes,” he agreed. “We should bathe.”

Yuuri managed to let out a choking breath as Victor’s thigh rubbed between his. Then Victor stepped away, and Yuuri nearly slid down the wall.

“I’ll go first,” Victor said, his gaze raking down Yuuri’s body in its slightly disheveled state.

Yuuri could only nod.

As Victor disappeared behind a free standing screen shielding the tub from view, Yuuri took a moment to gather himself. He shukked his boots off, and went to sit in the armchair by the fire. He lost his sweater next, tossing it over the back of the chair so the flames could heat his skin through his shirt.

The only noise was the splash of water, as Victor poured it over himself in the tub and scrubbed himself clean. Yuuri desperately tried not to picture this. It was difficult when he could hear the drag of Victor’s hands over slick skin.

He had managed to wind himself down to something like relaxed when Victor stepped out from behind the screen. In nothing but a towel.

Yuuri nearly fell out the chair as he sat up. Victor’s chest was still wet, skin glowing with it as he towelled his hair dry. He’d shaved, his cheeks smoother than they had been in days. A droplet of water was making a tantalising path down towards the edge of the towel around his hips. Yuuri swallowed.

“There’s plenty of water left,” Victor said, laughter in his voice, and Yuuri realised he’d been caught staring.

His gaze snapped up to Victor’s face.

“If you want to bathe,” Victor finished, smirking at him.

And oh fuck you Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri had time to think, before he stopped thinking at all.

“Thanks,” Yuuri said, and popped the first button on his shirt.

Victor’s eyes snapped to the movement.

Yuuri rose, his fingers continuing to deftly undo his buttons as he crossed the room. Just as he reached the screen, he cocked a look over his shoulder and let the shirt slither to the floor.

Victor looked ready to fall to his knees.

Yuuri smirked and disappeared behind the screen.

He alternated between freaking out over the display he’d just put on, and being quietly pleased with the look on Victor’s face as he washed. He stood in the tub rather than sit in the dirty water, using a large pitcher to drench himself before scrubbing. He shaved too, movements quick and slightly perilous with the straight razor. When he’d rinsed he wrapped a towel around his waist, leaving his clothes and glasses folded on the floor with Victor’s. Then he stepped out from behind the screen.

Victor was knelt on the bed. He was still in just a towel, fidgeting with a glass bottle. His head jolted up when Yuuri approached. There was something closed about his face.

“Hey,” Yuuri said gently, his nerves oddly soothed by how nervous Victor appeared to be.

“Hey,” Victor returned, his shoulders loosening slightly as he smiled at Yuuri.

The heat of the fire was soothing on Yuuri’s bare skin. He crawled onto the bed and knelt opposite Victor.

“You okay?” Yuuri asked, and tentatively reached out a hand to place it on Victor’s knee.

Victor let out a shuddering sigh.

“I’ve never…” he trailed off, and flashed Yuuri a look.

“Oh,” Yuuri said, surprised. “I just thought… well look at you.”

Then he blushed. This seemed to give Victor confidence. He smiled and squeezed the hand Yuuri had on his knee.

“There’s not much opportunity,” Victor explained. “Everything I attend with people who aren’t The True is so formal and the company is hardly desirable. The rich are so… anyway there was one time with a Captain’s son, he seemed more normal, but we didn’t… not all the way.”

Yuuri gazed at him in the half light of the room. Victor was almost painfully beautiful. With his starlight hair and his pale, smooth skin. And here he was, fumbling his words and confessing his inexperience. Yuuri felt a swell of protective affection for him.

“Well I have,” he said, reaching up with his free hand and brushing Victor’s hair back from his face so he could watch those blue eyes go wide. “Not much but a couple of times. I suppose it’s easier in my situation; the people are more relaxed. Would you want me to show you? We don’t have to tonight, or ever if you don’t want.”

“I do want,” Victor said quickly, leaning forward slightly so Yuuri could see how his gaze flickered eagerly over Yuuri’s face. “I just…”

Victor drew back again.

“Don’t want to do it wrong.”

Yuuri smiled warmly. He knew that feeling.

“You won’t,” he said simply. “Come on. Why don’t you help me with my stiff muscles first, we don’t have to do all that yet.”

Victor looked relieved as he was drawn back to comfortable ground.

“Right,” he said, nodding. “I have this. Which you are not to tell Yuri about because he’ll call me soft.”

Victor held up the little glass bottle, tipping it so the amber liquid moved lazily inside.

“It helps with muscle cramps, sort of heats up a little to soothe them.”

Victor tugged the hand of Yuuri’s he was holding, encouraging Yuuri to lay down on his front. Yuuri went, pleased at how relaxed Victor was now. He settled with his cheek pressed onto the soft duvet, his eyes on the flame in the lamp on the side table. Yuuri was pretty sure Victor had realised what else the oil could be used for, but he didn’t want to talk about that just yet. They’d get there eventually.

Yuuri heard the cork being pulled from the bottle, and then the slick sound of Victor rubbing oil over his hands to warm it. Yuuri pressed his face into the duvet, letting out a sigh to distract himself from the suggestive sounds.

Then Victor’s hands were on his calf. Yuuri twitched, but a moment later he was melting into the mattress with a groan.

“Fuck,” he sighed.

Victor chuckled.

“I do this when I’ve pushed myself too hard,” he said, his thumbs smoothing firmly up from the dip below Yuuri’s calf, over the curve of muscle, and into the divet of his knee. “Sometimes I can throw myself into training a little too eagerly. It’s a good distraction.”

Yuuri didn’t ask. He knew Victor had his own demons from his past, but they would come out at another time. Not when Victor was sounding so calm.

Speaking of demons, Victor’s hands pressed up Yuuri’s left thigh. The outer side a different sensation due to the damaged nerves there. Yuuri drew a breath. Victor must’ve felt it, because next moment there was a kiss being placed on the nape of Yuuri’s neck and a low voice against his skin.

“Beautiful, Yuuri,” Victor murmured.

Yuuri shuddered.

“For someone who’s never done this before,” Yuuri chuckled. “You’re far too good at it.”

Victor laughed too, his hair tickling Yuuri’s neck. And Yuuri thought of the other times he’d been taken, how he’d kept his clothes mostly on, his vanity a wall between him and his partner.

“I think that’s probably due to how you affect me,” Victor sighed, pressing another kiss before drawing back to continue massaging Yuuri’s leg.

“How’s that?” Yuuri managed to say, just before his stomach clenched with how high Victor’s hands skimmed up his thigh.

“I think you’re well aware,” Victor said, voice bright with laughter.

If this was how Victor was going to play Yuuri wasn’t sure how he was going to last the night.

Victor finished up Yuuri’s left leg in silence. The muscles gave up their tightness, the residual pain from continued strain ebbing away as Victor applied the same attention to his right leg.

By the time Victor moved onto his back, Yuuri wasn’t sure he was made out of solid mass anymore. Victor treated his pliant form with such expert care, that if it hadn’t been him doing it Yuuri would’ve been asleep. As it was, the low thrum of arousal coursed through him, making each muscle curl even as they relaxed. Yuuri only acted on it when Victor’s lips found his skin again, and they were on his ribs, right where he was marked.

“Victor…” And Yuuri was sure Victor could hear how wrecked his voice was, how touched he was by this simple display.

But he didn’t care, he just wanted, he wanted so much it ached.

Victor hummed, his lips buzzing against the tight skin of Yuuri’s left side.

“Victor,” Yuuri tried again. “Touch me.”

“I am, my love.” A smile against his ribs.

Yuuri groaned, and reached back to find the glass bottle on the sheets.

“Not like that,” he whispered, and slipped the bottle into Victor’s hand.

Victor’s breaths were short behind him, and when his hand returned to Yuuri’s thigh, his fingers were slicker than before. Yuuri pushed back to be on his hands and knees, his towel slipping.

“Just start with one,” he said, voice low and comforting as he looked back over his shoulder to take Victor’s free hand.

Victor’s face was flushed, his jaw slack and his eyes round. But he didn’t look afraid. He looked aroused, in more ways than one from the state of his towel.

Yuuri kept his eyes on Victor as the other man trailed his hand up higher, shuddering as it slipped between his cheeks. But as the first finger breached him, Yuuri’s head dropped helplessly between his shoulders.

“Is that okay?” Victor asked, his voice sounding wrenched from him, tugging at something dark and wanting.

“Fuck, yes,” Yuuri panted out, his hips starting to move of their own accord as Victor started to slide one long finger in and out.

It seemed to go on forever. Yuuri was able to let Victor find his own way around, only murmuring for more and being rewarded with another finger added to his body, then another. Victor was good, he was so good.

By the time Yuuri was ready his body lay limp against the sheets, his arms and knees collapsed out from under him as he ground both forwards and back to seek sensation.

“Please, Victor,” Yuuri begged, and he was aware that his towel had come away completely at some point, that he was bare and his legs spread. He was so intimately on display and he didn’t care, gods all he wanted was for Victor to keep looking at him like that, to take him looking just like that.

“Yuuri…”

And Victor was so wanton, not a hint of embarrassment or unease as he coaxed Yuuri to roll onto his back. Yuuri couldn’t stay still though, he was up, reaching for Victor, pulling his towel.

It came away and Victor’s mouth fell open as he was finally displayed to Yuuri. Yuuri’s eyes raked hungrily over him. He was like some sort of elven prince, skin like marble, limbs willowy, and open, relaxed, and staring at Yuuri like he wanted to be devoured. Yuuri leant forwards, slid his hands up those firm thighs, pressed his thumbs into the valleys of sharp hip bones until he was a breath away from away from Victor’s lips.

“Beautiful, Vitenka.”

Yuuri felt the full body shudder that rolled through the other man at that, trembled up into his lips as Yuuri kissed him.

“How do you… know…?” Victor asked, face full of wonder and flushed as Yuuri pulled back slightly.

Yuuri smirked.

“I’ve been in Toarin long enough to know the diminutives,” Yuuri said simply, climbing into Victor’s lap, gasping as their skin pressed flush together. “And I think I have an idea what that one does to you.”

The last was said with just a hint of a growl into Victor’s ear, and Victor’s hands jerked to Yuuri’s hips, squeezed them instinctively.

“Yuuri,” Victor said, a little choked. “Yuuri, I need you. I didn’t know how much I needed you, you’re everything, and I —”

“Shhhh…” Yuuri soothed, kissing a trail down Victor’s neck and relishing in the gasp it elicited. “You have me.”

And he reached back, guiding, and sunk down.

The stuttering cry that Victor made was everything. Yuuri moved to see his face, watched his eyes fall shut and his body jerk. Victor’s fingers gripped bruising onto Yuuri’s hips as Yuuri let him invade his body.

Yuuri sat for a moment when Victor was fully sheathed, both of them breathing in tandem, their chests pressed together and their arms draped around one another. Then Yuuri trailed his fingers through Victor’s hair, coaxing his eyes open. Then he started to move.

Yuuri’s head rolled back with a groan as the slow push of being filled repeatedly made his thighs shake.

“Yes, Vitenka,” he said, more breath than voice. “Yes… fill me.”

Victor let out a whimper, and his head dropped onto Yuuri’s shoulder, helpless little kisses littering his chest.

Yuuri felt powerful, the exquisite intrusion turning his his whole body into a live nerve, the way Victor shook and gripped him feeding the steady molten thrum that throbbed down to his centre. 

“I’ll show you what this is like,” Yuuri promised, taking Victor’s chin so he could pour the words into his mouth. “To be filled like this. I’m greedy, darling, this is my favourite. But I’ll fuck you so you know just what it is to come apart on my cock.”

The sound Victor made was not entirely human. He gazed up at Yuuri in utter awe, looking like he’d burn cities, go to war, crawl for miles just to get to him. And Yuuri was alive with it. Alive with his love for this man.

His hips were stuttering with the perfect drag inside him, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

“So good, Vitenka,” Yuuri gasped, giving Victor’s hair a little tug that made the man shake like he was coming apart, like Yuuri’s hands were the only thing stopping him from being swept into nothing.

Yuuri crashed their lips together, Victor’s moans remaking him into a thing of beauty, drenched in grace. And he was close, he was so close.

The slow roll of Yuuri’s hips bought him to completion like flame lighting an oiled rope, hot and all at once. Yuuri had come before of course, but the intensity of this was almost frightening. He let it tear Victor’s name from his throat as Victor shuddered beneath him and came as well.

“Yes… Yes, Yuuri,” Victor was sighing as they came down together.

Yuuri let his hips still as they both caught their breath. He let his head fall forwards to rest on Victor’s shoulder. He let himself breath in the smell of Victor, sweat slick and loved.

Victor hummed and kissed his neck. Then he tipped Yuuri back onto the bed. Yuuri went, pooling onto the mattress in a mess of loose limbs and dishevelled hair. Victor slid out of him, and Yuuri felt a twitch of interest as what remained trickled out too. He flushed. Too soon.

Victor collapsed beside him. They were silent for a few beats.

“Is it… always like that?” Victor asked eventually, breathless, finding his way under Yuuri’s arm to rest his head on Yuuri’s chest.

Yuuri laughed.

“No,” he said. “It’s not always like that.”

Victor hummed, pleased.

“I can feel all my skin,” he said.

Yuuri laughed again, and ruffled his hand through Victor’s hair.

“Well I should hope so,” he replied.

Victor huffed and leant up, his eyes bright and the most innocently happy smile spreading across his face considering what they’d just done.

“You know what I mean.”

Victor’s full smile like this had a little dip in the middle of his top lip. Yuuri ran his thumb over it.

“I do.”

“I could burst.”

“Please don’t.”

Victor pouted momentarily at him, but then Yuuri was pushing him off and manhandling him over to the tub. Victor looked inordinately pleased by this. He hung off Yuuri and teased and was generally a nuisance as Yuuri washed them both off, but the younger man didn’t mind. He let it happen, a fond smile and a blush on his face. He’d never seen Victor like this.

When they returned to the bed, Victor draped himself back over Yuuri as the latter extinguished the oil lamp on the side table. Then they settled.

“Thank you,” Victor said eventually.

Yuuri, who’d almost drifted off with the way Victor’s fingers had been drawing lazy circles over his chest, blinked.

“What for that?” Yuuri asked. “I can assure you I got just as much out of it. But glad you liked it.”

“No.” Victor placed a kiss on Yuuri’s chest. “For everything.”

Yuuri’s heart clenched under the spot where Victor’s lips had pressed.

After that it took awhile for Yuuri to drift off, even as Victor’s breathing slowed and deepened beside him. It was too much. To be given this. More than he’d ever expected, than he’d let himself hope for.

Yuuri placed the gentlest of kisses to Victor’s head, causing the smallest of sleepy mumbles to be issued from the other man. Then he settled back, and let sleep drag him down with his beloved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you have to look up the spelling of wanton so you don't end up calling Victor Nikiforov a doughy dumpling.
> 
> Shameless self promtion: I wrote another victuuri thing this week. It's a two-shot which got mad long and will probs be a series in future. It's here if you wanna check it out: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13486158/chapters/30924687


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for no update yesterday, I'm on holiday and I wrote another long thing last week which I was excited to post. Next week's may be a day late for this reason too.

Victor woke to warm skin against his cheek.

_ Yuuri. _

His mind unfurled around the name, his centre, his second heartbeat. A slow smile spread across his lips.

The chest Victor was pressed against was still moving slow with the deep breaths of sleep. Victor shifted back from where he’d wriggled down off the pillow in his sleep to press his face flush to Yuuri’s sternum. And looked up at his lover.

His first impression was of morning light, catching on raven locks to turn them a deep, chestnut brown. Gold skin, which shone next to Victor’s, the sun to his moon. Making him more than just a cold rock in the void, breathing life into him.

Is this what hope was? Victor didn’t even realise he hadn’t had it before, Yuuri’s presence had opened it slowly. He was no longer reactionary to what was going on around him, Victor felt like he could take down an armada of ships. He could see beyond the goals of The True, to something more. He’d thought he was okay, he had a family of sorts, they were good people. He thought he’d been happy.

But this, this was a happiness that ached it was so good.

Yuuri stirred slightly, his brow scrunching in sleep. Victor hid the grin that sprung across his face with a hand, startled by its intensity. Then he reached out, and gently smoothed his fingertips down Yuuri’s cheekbone. Something released in Yuuri’s face and he relaxed again.

Victor hummed, pleased at his effect on his lover.

But he couldn’t resist for long, he wanted to see those gorgeous eyes open just for him. Victor pressed his fingers to Yuuri’s lips, applying a little pressure.

Yuuri huffed and wriggled, but did not wake. Victor had to suppress a chuckle. He pressed harder.

“Mnng… Victor?”

Victor instantly dove in close, burying his face in Yuuri’s chest and squeezing his arms around him. Yuuri made a groggy sound of protest but his arms draped themselves around Victor anyway.

“Morning, my love,” Victor slurred the words into Yuuri’s chest, dragging his bottom lip over the skin there.

“Mmm… morning,” Yuuri mumbled, giving Victor’s hair an indulgent stroke before letting his muscles liquify back into the mattress.

“No, Yuuri,” Victor protested, giving him a little shake as he looked up to see Yuuri’s eyes had closed again. “Awake.”

“What time is it?” Yuuri asked, his eyes still closed.

“I don’t know but the sun’s high,” Victor weedled, shimmying up Yuuri’s body to press kisses up his neck.

Yuuri giggled as Victor’s fringe tickled him. Victor  _ adored _ this man.

“Think of the snow, Yuuri,” Victor pointed out, his head popping up from his ministrations to beam down at the slow blink of Yuuri’s eyes.

“I’ve seen snow,” Yuuri grumbled, giving Victor a scolding squeeze.

“Yes… but Phichit will come find us to play in it.”

Yuuri huffed and rolled away from Victor, who whined in protest.

“This is my first morning in a proper bed after years of crap substitutes, and of course that little shit will come and find me.”

Yuuri sat up on the edge of the bed, curling his spine to crack it. His back and shoulder muscles rolled with the movement, lean and toned. Victor watched this marvellous display with something like awe. Then Yuuri threw him a look over his shoulder.

“Well?” he said, and there was just a lilt of a tease in his voice that told Victor he’d been caught. “Aren’t you getting up?”

Then Yuuri stood, and the arm holding Victor up nearly gave out. He’d forgotten, or not fully appreciated in the half light of the night before, Yuuri’s backside. Victor scrambled after him.

He caught Yuuri as he was stepping behind the screen, gathering him in his arms to press kisses along his shoulder. Yuuri gasped at the press of bare skin against his back, at other very interested things pressed lower.

They had to wash with a flannel dipped in the last of the clean water, having used the majority the evening before. They helped each other, hands slicking over hard to reach areas, but mostly over any area they wanted to touch. It ended with Victor thrillingly pressed up against the wall and a very pleased moan issuing from his lips. It stopped with a bang on the door.

“Yuuri!” Phichit’s voice called from the hallway. “Snow!”

The door handle rattled. Thank god Victor had locked it the night before.

“Yuuuuuuri,” Phichit whined. “Pull yourself from between that poor man’s thighs and come have breakfast!”

“Phichit!” Yuuri squawked, springing away from an immensely disappointed Victor like he’s been burned. “Stop shouting!”

“Not until you come play!”

“Fine, you massive man child!”

Yuuri stalked around the room, grabbing fresh clothes from his pack, darting back to Victor’s side to collect his glasses and a kiss. Victor had only managed to pull on his pants when Yuuri wrenched the door open.

“Phichit!” Yuuri hissed, grabbing his best friend and pulling him into the room, his gaze darting nervously down the corridor before slamming the door closed. “Stop yelling obscene things in the hall.”

Phichit’s face was alight with mischief, and when he caught sight of the half-dressed Victor, he practically buzzed on the spot.

“Good  _ morning, _ Victor,” he said, making Yuuri turn and let out a horrified squeak at the sight of the topless Victor.

He rushed over, grabbing the first shirt he could find from the floor  — which happened to be his own  — and started trying to shove it on Victor. Victor was laughing too now, and he prised Yuuri’s hands off him, pointedly picking up his own shirt off the floor and putting it on.

The flustered and red in the face Yuuri turned to glare at Phichit.

“What do you want?” he asked, striding back to the bed and starting to make it with the expert hands of someone who had grown up in an inn.

“Breakfast,” Phichit drawled, coming over and flinging himself on the freshly made bed. “But I wouldn’t mind some juicy details too.”

Yuuri yelled at the same time Victor shrugged and agreed. Victor had a sudden flash of what the future could be. His and Yuuri’s life, bursts of Phichit and their other friends, laughter and family.

Yuuri rounded on him now, clearly thrown by the whole situation despite his confidence last night.

“No, Victor, we do not share.” 

“Possessive, I like it,” Phichit interjected, sprawling himself luxuriously across their sheets.

“Get  _ out, _ Phichit,” Yuuri snapped, pushing him roughly off the bed and towards the door.

“Breakfast in five, Yuuri, then I’m eating all the eggs for you,” Phichit said in a singsong voice as he was herded into the corridor.

Yuuri just made one last disgruntled sound and slammed the door.

“I honestly don’t know why I’m friends with him,” Yuuri huffed, turning and scowling at Victor.

“I like him,” Victor shrugged coming over to coax the frown from Yuuri’s face by nuzzling into his neck. It didn’t take long for Yuuri to be all smiles again.

When they’d brushed their teeth and packed their things, they headed downstairs to an almost empty barroom. Phichit, Mila and Yuri were sat around the table next to the fire, digging into a breakfast of fruit, toast, and eggs.

Mila shared one sly look with Phichit when Victor and Yuuri joined them, but no further mentions were made of their bedroom activities.

“What’s it like out there?” Victor asked, grabbing an apple to slice into pieces. “Can we ride out?”

“There’s a heavy covering,” Yuri said grimly. “It would tire the horses, but they’re already clearing the road. We may have to stop when we get further away from the village though.”

“If that’s the case why don’t we stay another night?” Yuuri asked, eyeing the way Victor was arranging apple slices on his toast with some scepticism.

“We know why  _ you _ want to stay, Yuuri,” Phichit teased, giving his friend a hard poke in the ribs. “But the rest of us are very focused on the mission.”

“You don’t give an arse’s tit about the mission.”

“An arse’s tit? I give many an arse’s tit.”

“Boys,” Mila broke in, flashing the pair of them an amused smirk despite her tone. “Stop. We need to go as far as we can before it starts snowing again or we’ll never make it back. Winter is nearly here, we need to get back to lower ground.”

After that it was discussions for their best course with help from Mila’s map and minimal bickering.

Victor was sorry to leave the inn. It was the warmest he’d been for quite a while, nevermind the memories they’d made here. He gave one last fond look around the bar as they purchased food supplies from the innkeeper to take with them. Yuuri looked thrilled about having a couple of days worth of fresh pies though.

Outside the ground was white with snow. The sun was just managing to make it down into the narrow street to reflect off it, causing them all to blink as they stepped out into the glare. Phichit instantly kicked a spray of the stuff at Yuuri.

The horses had been kept warm and fed overnight, and looked a lot happier than the last time they’d left them to their own devices. Hekai nuzzled Victor in a sleepy kind of way that told him she was just as reluctant to leave as he was.

But he was buzzing. After last night Victor felt like a  _ herd _ of horses were galloping under his skin, and he kept throwing looks over at Yuuri. He wasn’t the only one; he met Yuuri’s eye several times, receiving a bashful smile as Yuuri looked away.

“Would you two cut it out?” Yuri snapped from the back of his horse, his arm curled protectively over his stomach. “I’m only just feeling alright, I don’t need you two making me sick.”

Yuuri and Victor only exchanged smirks at this, Victor throwing in a wink for good measure. Yuri groaned.

“You’re both adorable. Personally, I’m thrilled,” Phichit joined in. “Think of how pretty the children will be.”

“Phichit, that’s impossible,” Yuuri scoffed, apparently having reached his blush quota and just frowning at Jayik’s straps as he adjusted them.

“Is it though, man-who-can-tear-apart-mountains-with-his-bare-hands?” Phichit countered, hoisting himself smoothly up onto Falcon’s back and looking smug.

“Fine, you can be godfather and take care of the little brats then.”

Victor nearly choked.

“Yuuri, don’t call your spawn brats!”

“Don’t call them spawn!”

“I quit,” Yuri said, riding out into the street. “I’m going back to the arse crack of the wilds and you’ll never see me again.”

“A double blessing,” Phichit said in a loud aside to Yuuri.

For the remainder of the morning, Victor allowed himself to hang back and watch this continuous good-natured bickering between the friends. He had a feeling that Yuuri needed it, that this was his normal, and Victor was an added layer to Phichit’s familiar comfort.

Yuuri threw him smiles over his shoulder whenever he could, which only increased Phichit’s friendly jibes.

The sunshine, their laughter, and the feeling Victor was still carrying in his stomach made it a very enjoyable day.

When they stopped for the night it was in the relative shelter of a copse of pine trees, which made for a thinner covering of snow on the ground beneath them. They set up the tarp like a windbreak again, settling close to the base of a tree to keep the snow off from above. This wasn’t fool proof of course, and Mila shrieked when a pile of snow was dislodged from a branch onto her head. But they kept the fire burning low, and with Yuuri beside him, it was easy for Victor to drift off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri wasn’t sure what woke him at first. It was dark as he blinked awake, groggy and confused. For some reason, Yuuri was finding it very hard to open his eyes properly.

He lay in the darkness for a while, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the low light the fire was casting. Yuuri could see the dark shape of Victor huddled beside him, his silver hair the only feature visible. Then Yuuri heard something shift behind him. He rolled over.

At first Yuuri wasn’t sure what he was seeing. On the other side of the low burning fire, a shape was hunched over the sleeping form of one of his companions. Yuuri blinked, struggling to raise his head, wondering why his limbs felt so heavy. At the sound of his movement, the shape turned towards him. And Yuuri let out a choked scream.

A gaunt face stared at him. For a moment Yuuri was reminded of the guenelin, but no this thing was different; squatter, rounder. The closest thing Yuuri could compare it to was the drawings of monkeys he’d seen in his parents’ books.

White fur hung in clumps from a bulbous little body, which heaved with wet sounding breaths. Its legs and arms were oddly skinny in comparison, long fingers shifting through the air to spread fine, white flakes of what looked like snow over a body Yuuri now realised belonged to Phichit. Small green eyes stared out from deep sockets, the mouth hanging open slightly as the thing drooled.

“V-Victor,” Yuuri managed to choke out.

At the sound of his words, the monkey-like thing began to crawl off Phichit. Its movements were completely silent.

“Victor!” Yuuri shrieked now, watching the thing crawl towards him with dawning horror, struggling to make his uncooperative limbs move.

The shape of Victor stirred, but he only let out a deep sigh before settling into sleep again.

Yuuri was dragging himself away now, his body protesting, his arms feeling so very heavy as he pulled himself backwards. The creature had rounded the fire now, advancing on Yuuri slowly, its head cocked to the side as it took in his retreating form. Yuuri felt a fresh wave of horror and revulsion as it let out a wet, hungry gurgle.

Yuuri made a split second decision. Rather than trying to wake Victor, he threw himself to the side. His hands scrambled to release his combat staff from where it was strapped to his pack, his fingers clumsy as he drew it out.

A bolt of fear ran through him as a hand fastened around his ankle. Yuuri screamed.

The lines of the wharl burst into his vision just as he turned with the staff. The force with which Yuuri hit the thing with was testament to his terror, weak as he was at the moment. The creature went sprawling, rolling over itself with a guttural noise.

Yuuri scrambled to his hands and knees, forcing his body to obey as he crawled, breaths coming so sharp they cut his throat. He dragged himself to Victor, throat tight, heart thudding. And shoved him. Nothing. Yuuri felt like crying.

“Victor Nikiforov,” he half sobbed, hearing the thing gathering itself behind him. “If you don’t wake up right now when there’s literally a monkey trying to murder me I will be so mad.”

Victor only slept on, his face slack and ignorant of the danger.

Suddenly it struck Yuuri what the issue was. He started scrubbing madly at Victor’s body, brushing the layer of snow-like substance off wherever he could reach.

“Y...Yuuri?”

Victor was opening his eyes, blinking blearily up at him.

“Victor, I swear to  — agh!”

Something hit Yuuri’s back, long, thin fingers fastening around his throat as he was wrenched backwards.

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri was choking, spluttering, his body being dragged across the hard ground as the thing dragged him backwards, surprisingly strong. Then, a flash of silver. The sound of metal connecting with meat, with bone. And Yuuri was drenched in something wet and warm.

“Ergh,” Yuuri said as the body behind him slumped, throat released, his back now soaked in blood.

He sat up, rubbing his neck. His limbs still felt strangely heavy and he was too exhausted to be relieved. He started to brush the white flakes off himself best he could.

Victor was breathing heavily, staring down at the creature. Then his gaze snapped to Yuuri, and he hurried to crouch beside him.

“Are you alright?” Victor asked, his hands flitting to Yuuri’s neck, frowning at the marks he saw there.

“Yeah,” Yuuri whispered, his throat sore and his nerves frayed. “What  _ was _ that thing?”

“A yamazadu,” Victor replied, his face stern with worry as his eyes again drifted to it. “I have no idea what its doing here. It belongs in the east, where your family is from.”

Victor suddenly blushed and looked thoroughly embarrassed.

“Not that you’re from there of course,” he sputtered, withdrawing his hands quickly from Yuuri. “You are of course Toarian, you grew up here so  — ”

“Victor, calm down,” Yuuri laughed, surprising himself with his ability to do so when he’d nearly been choked to death by a murderous monkey. “My family is from the Eastern Isles. It’s alright to say so.”

“Oh,” Victor said, looking relieved that Yuuri wasn’t offended by his apparently insensitive comment.

“Phichit on the other hand.” Yuuri pulled a face. “You may want to not say such things to him.”

“Oh,” Victor repeated, nervous now.

“Victor, I’m kidding you big dork,” Yuuri said, laughing again at the look of relief on Victor’s face.

Yuuri glanced behind him then. And grimaced.

The yamazadu was sprawled on its back, long limbs spread awkwardly where it had fallen. Up close Yuuri could see how matted and long its fur was. Victor’s sword had gone clean through its neck, down into its body. A quick death.

“It’s gross,” Yuuri mumbled, which made Victor laugh.

“They’re not pretty, no,” Victor agreed before straightening to his feet. “We should wake the others.”

The other three were just as difficult to wake as Victor had been. Victor was mainly concerned with Yuri, worried about what the yamazadu’s unnatural sleep would do to the boy in his state. It was true that Yuri took longer to wake than the other two and looked the most drained when he did, but he was otherwise okay.

“What in all the Gods’ names is a yamazadu doing here?” Mila said, standing over the body of the thing.

Yuuri noticed she was clenching and unclenching her hands around her whip.

“Well clearly there’s still a disturbance,” Yuri said, grunting as he straightened himself to sit against the tree trunk. “The real question is why we aren’t all dead right now.”

Yuri’s eyes slipped to Yuuri, pinning him with his gaze.

“What?” Yuuri said, slightly defensive as he looked from him to Victor to Mila. “I was woken up by it. Clearly it didn’t get me with as much of that powder stuff.”

“No Yuri’s right, that’s not how yamazadu ashes work,” Mila said, also pinning Yuuri with a curious look. “There’s more to that whispering than shifting stuff around, isn’t there?”

She looked to Victor then, apparently excited. Victor was gazing silently at Yuuri, a little frown of consideration on his face. Then he came over and sat down beside Yuuri.

“What did you feel when you were waking up, Yuuri?” he asked, taking his hands.

Yuuri frowned too, thinking about it.

“Well I dunno,” he said eventually. “It felt like when anything wakes you up. You don’t really register what it is because it happened whilst you were asleep.”

Victor gazed at him long and hard.

“What?” Yuuri asked, suddenly feeling anxious and annoyed. “I saved us didn’t I?”

“You did, love,” Victor sighed, releasing one of his hands to run his fingers through his own hair. “It’s just that yamazadu magic is powerful. And it doesn’t work in the same way as yours and mine does. It tampers with dreams, plays with them until it twists the mind to breaking. And then death.”

Yuuri was staring at Victor now, suddenly understanding what his confusion was over. This was nothing like what Yuuri could do.

“Wharl whisperers are concerned with… well not strictly the physical as the wharl is beyond that, it is essence of Dur’rum, but it concerns itself with physical things. The closest we have to something like what a yamazadu can do is Lilia’s powers.”

Yuuri sat, taking all of this in. If it was true that he shouldn’t have been able to wake up from what the yamazadu was doing, then they were learning a lot more about wharl whisperers than ever before.

“Lilia’s already told me we don’t know much about whisperers,” Yuuri said slowly, his eyes drifting to the glowing coals of the fire. “This is probably just one of those things. Right?”

Victor was silent.

“Right,” he agreed after a moment. “You’re right, of course. If anything this is exciting to be able to learn about.”

“Good,” Yuuri said, voice slightly waspish. “Glad we cleared that up.”

Phichit came and sat next to him then, slinging an arm around him.

“Once again, Yuuri, you’re our hero,” he cooed, pretending to fawn and faint in Yuuri’s lap.

Yuuri laughed and shoved him off. He didn’t miss how grateful Victor’s expression was when he looked at the younger man. He was quite sure Victor wasn’t entirely comfortable with handling other people’s emotions. Yuuri had no doubt he’d try for him though.

After that it was difficult to fall back to sleep. They dragged the body of the yamazadu away and Victor took first watch. Yuuri had a feeling that he felt guilty over Yuuri coming so close to danger. Whatever it was, he insisted to Mila that he’d gotten enough sleep and could stay up the rest of the night.

Yuuri cleaned the blood off himself best he could, washing the coat he’d been wearing and hanging it from a branch. Victor settled next to him and insisted he added another two sweaters, one of his own and one of Victor’s to make up for it.

It was probably human instinct that they all huddled closer together too, Phichit coming to lay on Yuuri’s other side and the twins curling up somewhere near their feet.

“If we ever do something like this again,” Phichit said, shivering despite them having rebuilt the fire, “we are bringing a gods damned tent.”

Yuuri silently agreed.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucka meee sorry for the two day delay. I only finished this today so I may revise a sentence here and there. Nothing major, just like a polish. Also it may be shorter than the others.
> 
> WARNING: mentions of violence and bloodshed.

With the weather the way it was over the next couple of days, Victor supposed he should have been miserable. As it was, he thought he might be at the start of what could be the best period of his life.

Yuuri. Everything about him was fascinating and enchanting. They spent hours chatting on the long rides, touches and looks trailing as they reforged their meaning to each other. Victor learnt a great deal.

“So of course after that I had to leave,” Yuuri was saying, one overcast afternoon when the snowfall had turned to a light drizzle of rain.

“There wasn’t anyone else to support you?” Victor asked, his attention fully on the man riding beside him, the way the wind turned his nose pink, played with his hair.

“No,” Yuuri sighed, his eyes on the road. “My parents had a lot of friends, but this man was powerful and jealous. It was the perfect opportunity for him. He took the inn and made it look charitable, like he was stepping in as a caregiver to the place and me. He made sure I got treatment for my burns and let me keep my room. But he was unkind. I left as soon as I could, knowing what he’d do to me if he saw me as a threat. I was young but I wasn’t stupid. I’d seen how much he wanted the place.”

“So you had to run away by yourself?” Victor asked, feeling a pang for the other man.

Victor’s own childhood had hardly been idyllic. He’d repressed most of it, but still remembered the look on Lilia’s face when she found him, dirt smeared with blood on his hands. But the thought of a little Yuuri, who even after years on the streets still had that spark of a happy soul, tore at him in new ways.

“No, of course not,” Yuuri laughed. “I was eleven and quite sheltered. I doubt I’d have made it very far at all if it weren’t for Chris.”

“Chris?” Victor prompted, momentarily distracted from Yuuri as Hekai struggled through a patch of slushy snow.

“Yes,” Yuuri said, adjusting his course to allow Victor to stay next to him on the path with a lighter covering. “I met him on the side of the road. He was a couple of years older and travelling into Lillenwyn on the back of a merchant’s wagon; had wrangled himself a spot out of shear charm and nerve and because the merchant’s daughter found him entertaining. He convinced the merchant to allow me to join them. She was kind, she fed us and offered us the protection of the couple of armed guards she travelled with… sometimes I feel a bit guilty because of her. I know not everyone I steal from is bad, even though those are the ones that are easy to target because of their great wealth.”

Victor gazed at the man beside him, considering. Yuuri’s mouth was twisted into a downward curve that he didn’t like, worry creasing into the lines of his face.

“You did what you had to,” Victor said gently. “You were dealt an awful hand and were in the company of other victims of an unfair society. This woman and her daughter, they may have been nice, but the rich have no idea. More of them need to be like those women.”

Yuuri hummed in agreement, and Victor was glad to see he looked more settled.

“Her name was Isabella,” he said fondly. “Her daughter was named after her too. I often wonder what happened to them both, there aren’t as many successful women merchants. We spent a good period of time together on the road, and I think the daughter in particular was sad to see me go at the end of it.”

“Well maybe that can be another thing we find out together,” Victor said, and Yuuri turned to look at him.

There was a hint of surprise in his expression, before it broke like sunshine through clouds.

“Thank you, Vitya,” Yuuri said, voice like warm honey. “That would make me happy.”

And if Victor temporarily forgot how to ride, then that was no one’s business but his and Hekai’s.

 

* * *

 

The relief of being back on flat ground was palpable when they reached it. It had been a somewhat treacherous descent back down over the last few days, the weather being what it was, and Yuuri for one felt grounded by the sight of long stretches of grass. Dead and partly snow covered grass, but grass all the same.

Since the incident with the yamazadu, they’d taken it in turns to keep watch at night. Yuri griped that this was something they should have been doing since the start, but he hadn’t suggested it then so was ignored.

Something else had changed in their nightly routine too. Victor had started outright curling himself around Yuuri. This had caused a barrage of teasing from Phichit, but Yuuri couldn’t say he was sorry.

Victor had changed since their night together in the inn. He’d let his guard down with Yuuri before then, but now Victor was openly affectionate, playful and quite endearing in a way that totally contradicted the cold man he’d been when they first met. He joined in with Phichit’s jokes, laughed more, and looked at Yuuri as though he hung the stars. It was quite overwhelming.

This happiness, the way it was blooming in Yuuri like a bulb after a long winter, was perhaps why he was so wrong-footed by their second day back on flat ground.

It had been a bright, bitter morning, the sun breaking through days of cloud to shine with a heat that did little to sooth the biting cold. The horses hooves crunched over a thick hoar frost, the thicket of the hedgerow edging the field they were traversing glittering under the sun like tangled jewelry.

Yuuri was chilly but happy. His gaze was on a bird, circling high in the clear, cloudless sky. Which is possibly why he missed the farmhouse before Victor’s eagle eye spotted it.

Victor let out a shout, and Yuuri turned, startled, to see a flash of silver hair as Victor took off in a gallop across the field. Yuri and Mila were already on his tail, the hooves of their steeds striking the frozen ground as they raced towards a structure two fields over.

Yuuri had time to exchange a confused look with Phichit, before they too were taking off after them.

It was another sign of Jayik’s unnerving intelligence, because Yuuri had never tried or even thought to attempt a jump on horseback. The low hedgerow between fields loomed closer however, and Yuuri, suddenly realising the obstacle, pulled sharply on Jayik’s reigns. The horse had other ideas.

Yuuri went sailing over the hedge with a smooth flex of muscle and agility from below him. He blinked, his head whipping around to check the hedge he’d just cleared.

“I’m impressed but you have no idea how much I hate you,” Yuuri yelled to Jayik, causing Phichit, riding breakneck beside him, to throw him a confused look. The mare of course ignored him.

Breathless seconds and one more hedgerow later, they’d caught up to the other three. Any shock at the ride he’d just experienced was wiped from Yuuri’s mind, as a new, crawling, all encompassing horror took over.

The farmhouse was a husk. The roof had caved in on one side, support beams raised in sharp, blackened fingers towards the sky. There was a body in the doorway.

“Don’t look.”

Victor’s voice, abrupt but gentle from beside him. Yuuri turned, his eyes wide and something rising in his throat, to see Victor has turned his horse back to Yuuri and was making to block his way.

“But what…?”

“Yuuri,” Victor was firmer now, and he met Yuuri’s gaze head on with those blank, steely blues. And Yuuri was back in his abandoned church of a home, a stranger staring at him from across what should’ve been a familiar scene. “Don’t look.”

Yuuri, too taken aback to object, nodded and turned Jayik away from the carnage. He rode a little way off, out towards the trees edging onto the house’s perimeter.

Yuuri slipped from his saddle in a daze when he reached the shade of a large oak, letting the reigns fall from his hands. He walked over frozen earth, leaves and twigs cracking under foot as he entered the trees.

“Yuuri?”

Phichit had followed him. Yuuri turned, and saw his friend’s anxious face as he too stepped away from his horse. Falcon and Jayik nosed each other briefly, but then seemed to turn away as though to give the boys privacy.

“Hey,” Yuuri said, and noticed that his voice sounded kind of distant.

“Are you…” Phichit didn’t seem to know how to finish that sentence. Yuuri gazed at him.

They’d been through a lot together on the streets. It really took a chunk out of a person, to have to live off others’ scraps, to have no choice but to steal, to face the violence of individuals from every class.

But none of that could compare to one spring night, hearing your family’s screams, and knowing there is no way you can help.

And here was another rural home, burnt out and gutted, the first defender felled in the doorway as his family were taken.

“This has been a good year for grazing,” Yuuri broke the silence with.

Whatever Phichit expected him to say, this clearly wasn’t it. Yuuri turned away from him to look out over the fields.

“A good harvest too, if the farmers knew how to handle the cold snap that came after that warm summer.”

Yuuri squinted against the icy breeze that picked up for a moment, his eyes pricked to watering before it died back down.

“Yuuri…”

Phichit sounded completely out of his depth, and Yuuri faced him again, saw the anxious shift in his posture. He’d always handled Yuuri’s panic attacks well. This he clearly didn’t know what to do with. Yuuri let him feel it for a moment, too busy dealing with his own thing rising up in him. The dark, spiked thing that wanted to hurt, that hungered and would have its feast.

“I will kill them, Phichit,” Yuuri promised then, not suppressing it at all. His voice was quiet and surprisingly steady, even though there were things licking at the corners of his memories.

“I don’t think — Yuuri, I know this is a lot,” Phichit started, stepping forward, panic in his eyes.

“No,” Yuuri broke across him, his mouth folding into a distant, half formed frown. “You really don’t.”

“Of course I do!” Phichit snapped then, and Yuuri was surprised back from the dark corners his mind had taken him through.

Phichit had his fists clenched and an uncharacteristically annoyed look maring his delicate features.

“You don’t end up on the streets without shit in your past,” Phichit spat next. “Just because my shit isn’t like your shit doesn’t make it not real. But the difference is that my anger can’t tear apart mountains if I let it out of control.”

Yuuri was reevaluating then. And gods he was realising that it wasn’t just hurt inside him, but Phichit was right, he was truly, devastatingly angry. So he screamed.

“Well why shouldn’t it?!”

His voice snapped across the field, startling a bird into flight and cutting Phichit short.

“Why shouldn’t it tear this, awful wretched world apart and just let it fucking bleed, Phichit?”

Yuuri’s eyes were watering again, but it wasn’t because of the wind this time.

“You’ve seen them,” he went on, not caring to control the break in his voice. “You saw what those men did to Tanarwen, what others just like them have done to more _children._ And it’s not just them is it? Who are maybe desperate and little bit damaged themselves. It’s those _fucking_ rich, that take, and take, and take and it just doesn’t matter to them. And who cares if this attack was made by the dunner or some gods forsaken wharl whisperer from the arse end of myth, hey? It just amounts to the same in the end. More innocent dead. More of those left over to feel it. More of you and me.”

Yuuri ran himself out and then stood there, his chest heaving. Phichit was staring at him, and Yuuri vaguely noticed that Victor had come over, was stood a little way from them beyond the horses. Suddenly, Yuuri was aware of the chill of the wind again. Deep in his bones.

“It matters, Yuuri,” Phichit said then. All the bitterness gone from his voice, leaving a tired but determined strength Yuuri thought he didn’t care to have for the mammoth task ahead of them. “Because we have the power to change it. We have you.”

And of course Phichit hadn’t been letting him see this. Had let Yuuri find his calm in him whilst the others from The True held their expectations, let them do the pushing, whilst he would always just be Yuuri’s best friend.

But Yuuri could see it in that moment. Could see the scared but sparkling boy he’d first met on the streets, the one who’d been hurt but still had hope, and the one who had always been stronger for being with Yuuri. And now that boy wanted just as much as The True, could see beyond their mission to what lurked in the dark. And saw that Yuuri could bring the light if he chose to.

There was silence between them. They stared at each other, something edged still there as both of them weighed up where they stood.

Then Yuuri’s shoulders slumped, and he stepped forward to embrace his friend. Phichit’s sigh of relief was warm on Yuuri’s neck, and the younger man squeezed him hard in return. And the familiar arms around him gave Yuuri a hook to anchor himself to.

“Idiot,” Phichit huffed affectionately when he finally stepped back.

“Moron,” Yuuri returned, equally fond as he smacked Phichit on the arm.

Victor seemed to deem it safe to draw closer then. He came, his eyes flitting between the two boys, still with that strangely blank look in them.

“You alright, Vic-Nik?” Phichit asked, cocking his head at the man and offering him a half smile.

“I came to check on Yuuri,” Victor said simply, and settled his gaze on the man himself.

“I’m alright, Vitya,” Yuuri assured him, a little drained. “Just… working things out.”

“Yeah it’s just friend stuff,” Phichit joined in, knocking shoulders with Yuuri. “That and the tragic love triangle we have going on here, what with Yuuri’s feelings for me.”

Yuuri scoffed, but let this go without cuffing Phichit as he usually would.

“Good,” Victor said, but he didn’t crack a smile at Phichit’s joke.

Yuuri let his mind refocus, drew himself back in from the place he’d gone, been tossed around by and returned cracked.

“Do you know what happened yet?” he asked, still not liking the mask of Victor’s face but understanding its purpose.

“It seems clear,” Victor replied, and he came forward then, brushed a hand to Yuuri’s arm even though he’d put his barriers up. The gesture soothed a vulnerable part of Yuuri that was still scrubbed raw. Yuuri drew a little closer to him, just to feel Victor's heat although he did not reach out himself.

“Or it would be,” Victor went on, his brow furrowing, “if it weren’t for the anomalies that have the mark of a whisperer.”

“What?”

Yuuri’s voice was sharper than he intended it. But the knowledge of his own power, the argument he and Phichit just had, gave the information a pointed edge.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri,” Victor said then, and he still wasn’t letting the emotion through on his face. But as Yuuri met his gaze he saw the hint of something there. “The wall was right. There’s more than one wharl whisperer active in Toarin.”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri was not taken inside the house to confirm what the members of The True suspected. Instead, he was shown a portion of the ground near the backdoor.

The stone slabs, no doubt laid down to prevent muddy feet from a family who liked the outdoors, were strangely disturbed. A gash, sprung from the wall of the house to ripple across the stones, contorted them. If Yuuri had to describe it, he’d say it looked how he felt when his control slipped.

“What do you think?”

It was Mila who asked the question, and Yuuri turned to find the others gazing at him. He sought out Victor’s face.

“It’s a whisperer,” Yuuri said. And why his opinion should matter when he had the experts in front of him was clear. He could feel it. The disturbance at his feet, and the darker thing that happened in the house beyond. Yuuri knew he had to ask the next question, though he dreaded the answer.

“He did it to them too, didn’t he?”

Phichit seemed to be the only one who didn’t understand the question. But after a moment, his face twisted into a look of disgust.

“Oh no, oh fuck no, that’s…” Phichit trailed off, then stared up at the blank windows of the house.

“Yes,” Victor answered, and he didn’t look away from Yuuri’s gaze as he spoke. “He used the whispering on them.”

“Why?” Phichit asked, sounding choked. “Why would anyone…?”

Yuuri didn’t need the answer to this. For one thing he knew that the answer didn’t matter. What reason could explain this atrocity? For another, he thought he might know.

Yuuri had of course, never met Graith, if that was indeed the one who was responsible. The Wall of Naiyan certainly seemed to think so. He had however, experienced the hunger of the thing inside him, and could guess its power to corrupt. Nevermind whatever backstory Graith or whoever wanted to give himself. Yuuri couldn’t care less where he came from.

But he would face him. That much was clear in that moment. Yuuri would face the one responsible for this farmhouse, and others he was sure were dotted around as the other wharl whisperer flexed his muscles. Yuuri was again struck by the nature of humankind. Or whatever kind he and the others like The True call themselves.

But as he looked at them, his companions, whilst the house stood forever silent at his back, he knew it was worth it. Because there were people like them in the world. And suddenly, Yuuri didn’t need to tear it apart so desperately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know NOTHING about horses. As one of you know, there is photographic evidence of me booking it away from a horse. I am but a wee city girl who wants nothing to do with those eldritch beasts. How likely is it that a super intelligent horse could make up for Yuuri’s complete lack of riding skill and make that jump? None? SILENCE IN THE VICTUURI COURT.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still sorry about how intense the last chapter was, but I don't regret it. I did end up going back to change a couple of things, mostly grammar, but also this sentence about Phichit and Yuuri's makeup hug for the Feels: "And the familiar arms around him gave Yuuri a hook to anchor himself to."
> 
> Kay you're up to speed, now to see how fast I can go from angst to smut to fluff. Possibly faster than Phichit with a camera when there's victuuri feels afoot.

They buried the bodies in the cold light of the afternoon. The ground was frozen hard, but Victor could see something defiant in Yuuri’s face as he said they should bury them manually, no whispering involved. It was not a suggestion for debate. Oddly, Yuri was the first to agree with him, and no one else objected despite the obvious need for them to continue their mission with haste. So it was that Mila collected shovels from the barn and they got to work.

There was a hard rhythm in the task that set Victor’s mind to rest. He might’ve been stronger than the others, found the task easier, but as his arms strained and his back bent in the trough they were making he had little room to think of other things. Like what he found in the silent rooms of that house.

Yuri was the first to tire. The boy’s wound wasn’t healing quite as quickly as it should’ve under Mila’s careful attentions. Continuous riding rather than bedrest weren’t ideal conditions after all.

The blonde actually staggered against the shallow pit they’d made before he gave in, his face a pale, sickly green.

“Get out,” Yuuri said evenly, no bite to the words as he took the shovel from Yuri’s hands and rotated it to Phichit. “Rest.”

Clearly Victor was not the only one who’d noticed the change in Yuuri, because Yuri did as he was told without lip. As he bent back to work, Victor thought he might know why the change in Yuuri had happened. He’d made a decision to fight. Not because the wall or any other prophecy had demanded it from him, but because a boy who had faced injustice and turned away from a path of it himself saw that house, what had been done by the hand of a man much like him, and decided it was wrong. And Yuuri just so happened to be in possession of a weapon that could right that wrong.

When the hole was deep enough, Mila and Victor climbed out to go back into the house. But Yuuri, climbing out after him, caught Victor’s arm.

“Do you not think  — ” Yuuri broke off.

His face softened a little in his uncertainty, but there was still that thing lurking in his eyes.

“What is it?” Victor prompted gently. He needed Yuuri to know that he was still safe to be vulnerable with him, even if the man seemed to have found a new strength all on his own.

Yuuri steeled himself and then looked at the house, his hand still warm on Victor’s arm.

“Do you not think I should see?” he asked. “Shouldn’t I know what’s coming? Be prepared?”

His eyes were tracing along the burnt upper floor of the house, where fire had lived and killed. And Victor hated that he saw memory in them.

“No,” he said. He didn’t mean his voice to come out so harsh, but it made Yuuri look back to him. Victor made an effort to soften himself. He couldn’t remember a mission before this where that has been a necessity, where he’d cared enough to do so. “I don’t think that’ll help at all. I think you know what is coming, and the knowledge of what these poor people look like in death will not change things.”

Yuuri gazed up at him, eyes sombre and fierce, with no hint of the fear Victor had seen in the tunnels.

“Okay,” Yuuri agreed, and released his arm.

The act of going inside and wrapping the bodies in sheets was something Victor did with respect, but from behind his mask. He already felt the weight of all this, so Victor collected the family portrait he found drawn by a child’s hand without the tears it deserved.

When they brought out the swaddled figures, two large, two small, Victor saw Yuuri eyeing the odd shapes of the bundles. And he knew what Yuuri knew, that there was no need to twist them this far even in murderous intent. All that would’ve been needed, as gruesome as it was, was a little rearranging of things internally. But no. These bodies had to be desecrated too. This was why Victor needed his mask back. He’d dealt with dunner attacks, but this was a new beast.

It wasn’t until they’d refilled the hole, the drawing in with the bodies because they needed the company of better memories than this, that Victor noticed Yuuri’s hands were bleeding. He drew close to where the man stood, leaning his shoulder against his best friend’s, their eyes on the freshly disturbed earth.

“Let me treat those,” Victor requested, and the boys turned to him, didn’t seem to know what he was talking about until Victor pointed to their hands.

“Oh,” Yuuri said, seeming more surprised to find his hands bleeding than Phichit, who nodded easily.

So Victor sat them down and cleaned their blisters. They were both tired and dirty, holding their hands out limply for him to attend to. He couldn’t help but place a kiss on the back of Yuuri’s when he finished one. The smile he received in return was exhausted.

“How come your your hands are fine?” Phichit grumbled when Victor moved onto him, before hissing as Victor dabbed antiseptic oil onto his open sores.

“Blane,” Victor said simply, to which Phichit only rolled his eyes at.

When the three of them returned to the other two, they found Mila had carried over rocks and was lining the grave with them, whilst Yuri sat whitling pieces of wood down.

“What’re you doing, Yurio?” Phichit asked, his voice holding none of the tease he usually reserved for the boy as he joined him on the floor.

“Making markers,” Yuri said simply, not looking up from his work, the sweep of his fair hair hiding his face.

Phichit was silent for a moment, before he too picked up a piece of wood, grabbed a knife from his shoe and got to whittling. Yuri’s hands paused on the pieces he was holding, before he went back to carving them without comment.

Victor and Yuuri looked at them work for a moment, at the way their knees were almost touching, before they set about helping Mila position the stones around the perimeter of the freshly dug earth.

When it was all done, no words were said. The group simply went to the well at the edge of the property to wash themselves best they could and retrieved their horses, who were still saddled with their packs but weren’t complaining. Perhaps they too knew that no words from strangers were needed here.

 

* * *

 

Understandably, they rode mostly in silence for the rest of the day. That’s not to say it was unpleasant though.

The fields opened out before them, flat, easy and still blessed with the last fading sunshine of the day. And there was that new ease between them. Forged by their time together on the road and under the mountain, and hardened in the dark waters of the act they’d just done together.

It was still there as they found a place to rest for the night, among a copse of trees on a gentle downhill slope that sheltered them from the wind. It was in the way Mila tossed a hunk of dried meat at Yuuri for him to dice for the stew, explaining how she’d caught it as she did. It was in the way Phichit still hadn’t teased Yuri but was actually making something like a smile appear on the boy’s face. And when they’d eaten and were warm from the fire, it was in the look Yuuri threw Victor as he stood and declared his intention to go for a walk. There was only minimal wolf whistling from Phichit as they departed.

Yuuri palmed his way from tree to tree ahead of Victor, his hands dark on the pale bark of the silver birches. Victor followed, entranced by Yuuri’s shadow form and the occasional glance he threw over his shoulder to him. He could feel something complex swelling in his chest. Something he didn’t quite have a name for but was sharpened by the days events.

Yuuri lead him down the moonlit hill, through the trees until they found a river bed, dry and muddy from autumn but to be filled again in a few months with snowmelt. Yuuri considered it for a moment, his eyes on the drop, Victor’s eyes on him. In that moment he was Victor’s crow, sleek, dark and a little hunched as he surveyed his landing spot. Then Yuuri jumped down.

When he followed, Victor found the river bed was ever so slightly warmer. He had time to be grateful for the way hot air sinks, the shelter of the slope of the bed, before Yuuri moved off away from him again.

They followed the path of the bed like water before them until Yuuri came to a stop, and sunk down to sit against the side of it. Victor joined him. After a moment Yuuri found his hand.

“I don’t think I’m scared anymore,” he said into the silence.

It was not unexpected. But the nature of the telling, unprompted and easy, was new and made Victor turn to face him. Victor could see Yuuri’s profile by moonlight, streaked through with the shadows of the bare branches above them.

“Good,” Victor said, and then even though he knew he couldn’t promise it; “I won’t let you have a reason to be.”

Victor could make out the hitch of Yuuri’s smile. It ached.

“No,” Yuuri agreed. “I didn’t think you would.”

Then he turned and kissed him.

Victor leaned into him, letting his soft, amnesiac lips wipe his mind clean, soothe his worries with the slow movement of their jaws as Victor pushed Yuuri back. Yuuri went, falling onto the bed of dead leaves and dry dirt beneath him.

“Make me…” Yuuri began to ask, then stumbled over the words as his fingers stumbled over the buttons of Victor’s shirt. “Make me forget for a little bit. I need not to think, Vityenka.”

And Victor gave his promise to do so with his lips, trailed them down Yuuri’s jaw, his fluttering pulse. He pressed his nose into the hollow of Yuuri’s collarbone and breathed him in, let his weight bear down a little on Yuuri until the younger man let out a slightly torn gasp.

“Of course, love,” Victor agreed, voice rough with the desires that were pouring from him, hot and selfish, needy and giving.

He bit down on Yuuri’s skin, causing a little cry from the other man. Victor knew the basics of this, could learn to do it better for all of Yuuri’s little tells.

He worked his way down, hands and lips smoothing over clothes he left on against the cold night, not undoing anything until he reached Yuuri’s belt. It came off with a clink that would’ve been obscene, but the noise was stolen by the gentle breeze for its own to keep.

Yuuri was hot against his mouth. As Victor nudged his way under trouser and briefs, he was met with hardness already growing. He took it onto his tongue without preamble.

There was something weighty in this, Victor thought, as Yuuri let the softest of whimpers escape him. To take Yuuri apart with a mouth Victor was starting to think was made only for him, to bring Yuuri pleasure, to sing his praises. To respond to his kiss.

And it was a lot, this dedication. Enough that his eyes weren’t only watering from the length pressed on his throat, but from the feeling pressed on his chest. But Victor would take it, handle it even though it overwhelmed, and keep loving Yuuri like this until the end. That was really all there was left for him.

Yuuri didn’t need too much to spill down Victor’s throat, let himself come even though they could have drawn it out. His head was thrown back by the end, mouth sweetly open. Victor let him come back down from it with accompanying little kisses pressed to sharp hip bones.

Then Victor tucked him away and put his clothes back in place. He crawled back up Yuuri’s body so they could find their breath together, pressed his forehead to Yuuri’s and bracketed his head with Victor’s strong arms. He could cover Yuuri’s whole body in that position. Hide him away.

Yuuri’s hand came up to smooth along Victor’s side.

“Do you…?” he started, and nudged Victor away slightly so he could look up into his eyes.

“No, love,” Victor assured him, offering a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Only if you want to.”

Yuuri considered him for a moment, his face full of the shifting shadows of the night.

“Yes,” Yuuri sighed after a moment, the word like a release from him. “I think I’d like that.”

And Yuuri took Victor apart until he didn’t know where either of them ended.

 

* * *

 

“They’re actually runes.”

It was the next day and they’d paused on the side of the road to have something to eat. Yuuri sat opposite Victor, their knees touching from where they’d been playing some sort of hand slapping game. Yuuri was pretty sure neither of them understood whatever rules they were supposed to be following, but as they mostly ended up just holding hands anyway he suspected it didn’t matter.

“How does that work then?” Yuuri returned, yet another thing about the world he was supposed to be from revealed to him.

“Well blanes can cast runes, we don’t have to draw them,” Victor explained, playing with the paper his pie had been wrapped in. “Once cast, the rune will etch itself onto whatever we’re affecting. If you were to look at the wicks of the candles in your church you’d find little runes from when I lit them.”

“They’d have to be miniscule,” Yuuri pointed out, taking the paper bag because the rustling was starting to get to him and this way he could have the heat of Victor’s hands back. “And you’d leave marks on everything, so you’d have to be careful. Unless you’re trying to impress a certain someone.”

He peeked up with a smirk to find Victor smiling back at him. His usually pale cheeks were a little flushed from the cold and his eyes were shining.

“Yes,” Victor agreed, flipping his hands over so he could wind their fingers together. “But runes don’t really follow our rules, some of them are odd sizes or fade over time. And not all of them can be cast, even by blanes.”

“Mm…” Yuuri agreed, half his mind on what was admittedly an interesting conversation, the other half on how Victor tugged him forward a little, bringing him closer to his warmth.

“There are more powerful ones,” Victor went on, and his voice was hushed, probably not out of respect for the subject matter if the way his gaze flicked down to Yuuri’s lips was anything to go by. “Stronger runes that need the weight of the written mark to cast it. For some the price is even higher.”

“Is that so?” Yuuri asked, leaning forward even more, delighting in the way it made a little exhale catch in Victor’s throat. “What would those prices be?”

“More than you could afford.”

“Try me.”

What was quickly becoming a situation ripe with tension was ruined as Mila flopped down directly next to them.

“Hey, sluts,” she sighed, kicking Victor in the thigh. “I caught the last rabbit so Victor it’s your turn, you’ve done hardly any hunting.”

Victor, apparently very put out at the interruption, arched a brow at her.

“Are you going to lend me your bow?” he asked, a hint of the old sneer audible in his voice.

Yuuri hid his grin. Victor’s aloofness was quite nice when it was for him rather than against him.

Mila on the other hand, looked horrified.

“Of course not,” she replied, looking like she might kick him again.

“Well then what do you want me to do?” Victor posed. “Fly up into a tree and hit a squirrel with my sword?”

Yuuri lost it at that image. When he’d managed to compose himself, still giggling slightly, he saw Victor watching him fondly.

“Whilst you and I both know that you are actually more than capable of doing that,” Mila said archly, even though she’d lost the little annoyed look she came over with, “you  _ can _ set traps and stuff.”

“Noted,” Victor agreed. “I shall lay traps  _ and stuff _ .”

Yuuri had a feeling Victor was fully knowledgeable about hunting all along, but just wanted to make him laugh. He gave Victor’s fingers a squeeze.

Not long after this little discussion they set off. It was a brisk day, lacking the frost of the one before but with a wind that felt like a steel scrubbing brush to Yuuri’s soul. He buried his hands in Jayik’s mane to warm them. It wasn’t like the mare really needed to be lead anyway.

The riding was easy though. And Yuuri was grateful for the way the group seemed bound together now, the last couple of days the final knot to their relationships.

Whatever they were riding towards, they’d arrive there together.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit later than the usual weekly update, if any of you read my Cosmic Siren Song Playlist series you'll know why. But I drew art for this fic so that's something! (Link in end notes) Seeing as there's only going to be about two more chapters after this I'm going to allow myself slightly longer than a week to write them too, as they deserve my full attention.
> 
> Okay take it away boys.

If, Yuuri thought to himself, he was able to gain even an iota of Victor’s grace on horseback by the end of this, he’d be… well not happy about it because he has  _ suffered, _ but he would have perhaps viewed it differently. Because whilst their remaining days on the road were oddly enjoyable, filled with sparring lessons that usually ended up in Victor allowing Yuuri to best him just so he could get pinned by the younger man, a stop at a market after which Phichit had a sugar high that lasted two hours, and many, many kisses, Yuuri still ached. Victor however sat tall and regal, his chin tilted up and daylight catching on his silver hair. He didn’t once look like he was stiff or chafed. It was outrageously unfair.

By the time Lillenwyn came into sight Yuuri could only cheer weakly.

“Yes,” he sighed. “I never have to ride one of these beasts again.”

Victor, who was ahead of him, tipped a smile over his shoulder.

“Come now,” he said, pulling on his reigns so Yuuri could draw level with him. “You’ll hurt Jayik’s feelings.”

“Jayik is a creature of chaos and unknown powers,” Yuuri retorted, patting the mare’s neck fondly. “She does not care for my opinion.”

Victor snorted, and then squinted ahead.

“It will be good to be back,” he agreed. “Pester Yakov to make those chicken and leek parcels of his, sleep in a proper bed.”

“You’re fooling no one, Vic-Nik,” Phichit broke in, drawing in to ride closer to them. “We all know the  _ real  _ reason you want a bed.”

Yuuri was too far away to shove his friend. But for a mad moment he considered using the wharl to give him a push, and then stumbled over the thought. He’d just considered using the whispering against a  _ person. _ Admittedly not in a truly harmful or vindictive way, but a person all the same. Who he could lose control on.

Yuuri rode in silence then, between Phichit’s teasing and Victor’s haughty replies. It was a funny balance, he thought to himself. The more the wharl became normalised to him — through the continuous awareness of it thrumming around and through him, and his ability to reach out and touch it — the more his fear of slipping up lessened.

It’s not that Yuuri had forgotten the fear he’d felt before, after the black outs, then after he was actually able to remember, which went along with the knowledge of how it felt, how it really felt, to be the gateway for this unnamable power. But it was just… there now. Part of him.

The question of whether this was a bad feeling felt oddly flat in that moment. Yuuri knew who he was. He wouldn’t slip up on purpose, wouldn’t twist live beings intentionally. Surely confidence was a good thing… right?

He came back from his meditation on the topic when Phichit made a particularly crude joke, causing a crack in Victor’s usually flawless veneer as the man gave in and cackled.

Yuuri watched him, his… lover? Yes he supposed that was right. Watched the flash of Victor’s white teeth, the blush on his usually pale cheeks and the hunch of his shoulders as he laughed.

Victor had said he wouldn’t let Yuuri have reason to be afraid. Yuuri had to trust him. Had to believe that Victor would have confidence in him even when Yuuri’s own cracked, which it undoubtedly would at some point. And he’d be there to help Yuuri pick up the pieces. Because no matter how well his confidence was fairing in this moment, there’d always come a day when Yuuri  _ would  _ crack. He smiled bitterly to himself. It was how he was wired.

“You okay, Yuuri?” Victor asked then, and Yuuri realised he’d been staring.

He smiled, the feeling he was experiencing not allowing him to be embarrassed in that moment.

“Yes,” he replied. “I think I’m just fine.”

 

* * *

 

If you asked Lilia Baranovskaya whether she cried on being reunited with the ragtag group of travellers, you’d probably receive a condescending eyebrow raise for your efforts. Which was not something to be sniffed at, Lilia’s eyebrows continued to be a weapon of mass shaming. But as each of the prodigal group stepped through the backdoor, finally off their horses and in the warmth of a proper house, her eyes were definitely sparkling.

“I saw you of course,” she said briskly. “Yakov’s cooking. Glad you’re all back in one piece.”

“Just about,” Yuri cut in, dumping his pack on the floor with a thump and a wince.

“Ah yes,” Lilia mused, her eyes raking down Yuri’s form. “Go to the kitchen so I can redress it. Mila, you’ve done an excellent job considering the conditions.”

The praise made Mila beam as she grabbed up her brother’s pack and bounced off with him down the hall.

Lilia turned on Victor then and Yuuri saw something in the man’s face twitch.

“Hello, Lilia,” Victor said, warmth to his tone despite his unreadable expression. “How have you all been fairing?”

“Stop that,” Lilia snapped in return, stepping up and patting a startled Victor on the cheek. “It’s good to see you alive. We’ve been shit, thanks for asking.”

Phichit let out a cackle which quickly turned into a cough when Lilia turned an arch look upon him.

“Afternoon, ma’am,” Phichit said, bowing his head as he passed her.

Something like amusement danced in Lilia’s eyes as they followed the boy on his way to the kitchen. Yuuri suppressed his grin and went after his friend.

“Have the visions been getting worse?” he heard Victor ask in a low voice as he and Lilia followed.

“Worse is putting it lightly,” Lilia grumbled in return, the sound of her swishing skirts filling the corridor along with the tap of the men’s shoes across the floorboards.

“Have you…?”

“I have,” Lilia replied before Victor could finish that question. “It’s no good. Or well it is but it’s too much, it’s warped. We had a… close call.”

The sound of Victor’s footfalls stopped. Yuuri turned to see the man standing as still as the decorative vase he’d stopped beside, his eyes fastened on Lilia.

“What do you mean a ‘close call’?” he asked, his voice icily void of any emotion.

Lilia paused too, and in that moment Yuuri saw where Victor had received his training from. Her face was completely blank.

“I meant things are looking bad and we took a necessary risk,” Lilia said, glancing at Victor over her shoulder. “The same way we took one when we sent you to the wall of Naiyan. You think I don’t know how bad Yuri’s wound was?”

Yuuri experienced a brief unease over whether he should’ve been listening to this. He stepped back, but Victor threw him a look that made him pause.

“That’s not the same thing,” Victor pointed out. “And we’d already tried the other way but to no avail. We found Yuuri but nothing on what’s coming.”

“Victor, that’s what it’s there for,” Lilia snapped then, her tone final as she turned back to continue her stride towards the kitchen. “We aren’t members of The True if we’re not willing to risk these things. Me risking my mind is no different than you risking your body.”

Victor opened his mouth, but then closed it, a deep scowl permeating his features. Yuuri let Lilia sweep past him, completely nonplussed as to what was going on. He arched a questioning eyebrow at Victor, who simply shook his head and came forward to walk beside him.

The icy atmosphere was immediately thawed on their entry to the kitchen. Celestino had Mila and Yuri in a bear hug whilst Phichit laughed and helped Yakov lay out some plates.

Yuuri took a moment in the doorway, breathing in the smell of the fire, fresh spices and baking. He had an odd deja vu moment, like he knew what it was to return to a home like this. A proper one, with all the windows intact and a family that loved him.

“Get  _ off, _ Celestino,” Yuri hissed, fighting his way out of the massive man’s hold. “I am  _ injured, _ I don’t need you reopening my stitches.”

Celestino wasn’t listening however, distracted by the entry of Yuuri and Victor.

“Boys!” he boomed, descending upon them now for a bone crushing hug.

“Ack,” Yuuri wheezed, his arms trapped by his sides and pressed up against Victor’s bony elbow. “Hi, Celestino.”

“It’s so good to see you both,” Celestino said, releasing his hold to beam down at them. “Yuuri, you look well, got more colour in your cheeks. Victor finally been feeding you?”

“Actually that’s mainly been Mila,” Yuuri said, grinning at him in return and ignoring the scoff from Victor. “She’s quite something with that bow you made her.”

“Always has been,” Celestino agreed, ruffling Victor’s perfect hair as he turned back to the table. “Could shoot a bird down with a stick and a rubber band when she was three.”

Mila smiled at that, taking a seat on the long bench on the other side of the kitchen table to help Yuri undo the front of his shirt.

“Ew,” Phichit teased, flashing Yuri a smirk. “Do we have to do that when we’re about to eat?”

“I’ll give you your own injury to worry about if you carry on,” Yuri grumbled in return.

“There he is!” Phichit trilled reaching over to shove the back of Yuri’s head. “Was worried we’d lost you.”

Yuri just let out something like a hiss in response and turned to Lilia as she settled on the other side of him, a medical kit in her hands.

“Before we eat,” Yakov’s gruff voice broke in, and Yuuri looked up from where he was sitting himself down opposite the others to see the man stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed. “You need to tell us what you found at the wall.”

“That’s…” Yuuri began, then flushed as all the members of The True turned to him. “A long story. Maybe Victor can tell it best.”

Victor, who’d sat himself down at Yuuri’s side, flashed him a little smirk before nodding.

“The wall, I’m afraid to say, confirmed our worst fears,” Victor started, accepting the bread basket Celestino handed him and taking a piece. “There’s a force at work that’s messing with the wharl. Another whisperer, a strong one, that… well either imitates Graith or is his reincarnation. We haven’t decoded all the symbols yet. Celestino, we could use your help with that.”

The blacksmith and rune master hummed distractedly, his eyes on the table as he processed the rest of the information. Yuuri thought this was actually a far more succinct description than what he had swirling around in his head after their experiences, and gave Victor’s knee a grateful squeeze.

“Okay,” Lilia said evenly, her hands on Yuri’s ribs as she cleaned his wound. “It’s nothing we didn’t already expect. And it would certainly explain my visions, and how… overwhelming the garn has become.”

“Question,” Phichit said, raising a finger on his free hand, the other one shoveling pie onto his plate. “What is the garn? Question two; how often do people get reincarnated. Is this like, the norm for you guys? I’ve been wondering that since the wall. You’re all very relaxed about it.”

Mila snorted as Victor shook his head.

“It’s very much not the norm,” Victor sighed, and his hand found Yuuri’s under the table. Yuuri blinked at him in surprise. Victor’s expression was still stoic, but his grip was undeniably tight in Yuuri’s.

“Yes this is… worrying,” Yakov said, sinking onto the bench on the other side of Yuuri. “There’s no record of any two wharl whisperers living at the same time. And Graith is the only one who’s gone dark. Others either self destruct before they get the chance, or are guided to a better path by people like us.”

Here Yakov flashed Yuuri a grim smile.

“Graith believed those of Dur’rish blood should rule though,” Celestino broke in, a frown maring his features as he too helped himself to pie. “Tried to convince others to join him. I don’t think he’d have turned to the dunner to create an army if they had, would probably seen them as beneath him if the few records of his speeches we have are reliable. But he did. Used his immense power and the dunner to ravage the land before The True took him out. He is the only one though, it’s true. Most are more like you, Yuuri.”

Celestino gave him a smile too then and Yuuri had to look away for a moment, feeling the weight of it.

“Speaking of which,” Lilia said, now wrapping fresh bandages around Yuri’s torso as the teen held his shirt out of the way. “How are you faring, Yuuri? You seemed… well in my visions.”

Yuuri took a while to answer, concentrating on slowly chewing his way through a mouthful of bread. He could feel the eyes of everyone on him and his ears started to warm up in response.

“I’m…” Yuuri started after he’d finally swallowed. “I am doing well. I think I’m more in control than when I left, but…”

Yuuri squeezed Victor’s hand though he kept his gaze on his plate.

“Yuuri’s mastered his abilities of the whispering,” Victor offered. “But I don’t think he’d mind me saying that the experience of being able to remember his encounters with it are… unnerving.”

Yuuri did look up then, flashing Victor a grateful smile. He thought he might’ve heard Celestino sigh at that but didn’t dare look at the man’s expression.

“I’m better with it,” Yuuri went on then, not taking his eyes away from the calming blue of Victor’s. “I feel more… at one with what it wants. But sometimes what it wants is not so much a human urge the way we feel them, but… it does have a certain thirst. I think.”

Yuuri brow furrowed, his gaze tearing away to focus on where Yuri was buttoning his shirt up. How could he explain this otherworldly force with instincts that were human in nature? The wharl was not human. He wasn’t even sure if it was sentient, if he applied the usual meaning of the word. But it did have a sort of awareness, its own kind of desires. Deep and arcane, something that both ached and was full of joy. It felt a little bit like life itself.

“Well that’s something that’s going well for us,” Celestino’s kind voice broke Yuuri from his thoughts, and he glanced at the man to see he was still smiling at him. “Well done, Yuuri. It’s no small feat you’ve accomplished.”

“Quite so,” Lilia agreed, and Yuuri saw she’d been watching him intently, expression considering. “And I think you may be the answer, as we’ve always suspected.”

That made a flare of panic seize Yuuri’s chest in a way it hadn’t since the farmhouse.

“How can I be though?” he asked, ignoring Victor’s squeeze of his hand as he barrelled on. “If Graith had time to master his whispering, and then go bad it means he’s far more skilled than me. And if it is him, not just a copy? How am I supposed to face someone who literally reincarnated themselves. That’s power that even you lot have never experienced.”

There was a moment of silence at that. Yuuri released he was breathing rather heavily, and made himself claw back his composure. There was a little streak of bitterness in him too. Did any of them realise what kind of pressure they were putting him under? His gaze sought out Phichit. His friend just gave him a slow, twinkling smile, unhindered by the weight of the expectations the others held. Yuuri felt the panic and bitterness loosen then, and took a breath.

“I think,” Lilia said slowly, her eyes flicking briefly to Phichit before resettling on Yuuri. “I may have the answer for that. We do after all, have something in our possession that Graith does not.”

“No,” Victor voice cut across Lilia’s last word, sharp and dripping with more anger than the man ever let himself show.

Yuuri turned to him, and startled at the look he saw Victor giving Lilia. He’d seen Victor angry, but never directed at one of his own companions.

“It’s like I said, Vitka,” Lilia went on, and Yuuri was surprised again as the woman let the familiar nickname slip into her words. But it only made Victor’s face harden further. “We have to take risks as members of The True.”

“Yuuri is  _ not _ a member of The True,” Victor pointed out, and Yuuri had to admit that stung a bit. He knew he wasn’t  _ technically, _ but surely he was a sort of honorary member?

Yuuri was surprised at his own longing for it then. The desire to belong, to stay, to love. He’d always had Phichit, but this? This was like a family.

“You have to admit he sort of is, Victor,” Yakov said then, but closed his mouth with a frown when Victor turned his glare on him.

“I don’t care,” Victor said, and Yuuri hissed a little as he eased his fingers out of Victor’s tight grip. “He’s not getting near that thing. Lilia’s already had some sort of incident with it whilst we were gone, and now you want to expose Yuuri to it? When he has none of the same abilities, is concerned purely with the corporeal through the wharl?”

Yuuri frowned then, his head cocking to the side.

“I have no idea what you’re all talking about,” he said, voice brittle in a way that made Victor’s face soften in surprise as he turned to him. “And thanks for talking about me as though I’m not here. But that’s not true, Vitya. My abilities, as you full know, are not strictly concerned with the corporeal. It’s what saved all of your lives whilst  _ you _ were asleep.”

He glared at his other travel companions then, as though daring them to join in the conversation about him but not with him. Yuri just raised his eyebrows as Mila held up her hands innocently. But Phichit grinned at him.

“And a fine trick it was,” his friend agreed.

Lilia addressed him then.

“I think it’s time to answer your first question, Phichit,” the woman said, her expression resigned. “The garn is a powerful object we have in our possession. Like others we have in the artefacts room, it has a long history and many secrets. It is however, much more powerful than anything you’ll find in there and is therefore kept elsewhere.”

“Powerful in what way?” Phichit asked eagerly, pausing between clearing the last crumbs of pastry off his plate.

“A bad way,” Victor grumbled. And Yuuri, who had still been feeling annoyed at him, couldn’t help the flicker of fond amusement at his sullen tone.

“It magnifies my powers of prophecy and telepathy,” Lilia explained, helping herself to a glass of wine now she’d finished with Yuri. “By opening a gateway to Dur’rum. Or a place in between it and here. It helped me narrow down my visions about Yuuri and find where he was.”

There was silence as Phichit worked over the information. This was news to Yuuri as well of course, but he let his friend do the questioning.

“And from what I’ve gathered,” Phichit said slowly. “Dur’rum is your word for a sort of heaven?”

“More or less,” Lilia agreed with a wry smile. “Different cultures have different words and beliefs for it and what lives there. I won’t say the garn opens to it directly, as I doubt any mortal being could survive that, but it’s a sort of halfway point. Much like Yuuri is a gateway for the wharl that flows from it through to our world, is infused in all things.”

There was another moment of silence as Phichit took this in.

“Okay,” Phichit settled on then, grinning at Yuuri. And Yuuri realised his friend had mostly been asking questions for his benefit.

“If I know what you’re getting at,” Mila spoke up then. “It’s a mad idea.”

“Thank you, Mila,” Victor said then, glaring again at Lilia.

“Have you got another one?” Lilia asked, her tone dry and completely unbothered by the daggers she was receiving from the blane.

“I don’t know,” Victor spat then. “How about I stick my sword through his head? Whatever we do I am  _ not _ letting Yuuri be exposed to the garn. You’re going to suggest he shoves Graith through it, no?”

“That’s really not your call to make.”

Yuuri’s quiet voice broke Victor’s stride as the man turned to him, expression slack with surprise.

“Yuuri —”

“I think I decide what risks I’m willing to take, Vitya,” Yuuri said, his tone cool even as he reached out to squeeze Victor’s knee. “Though I appreciate you’re worried. I’d like to hear more about Lilia’s plan.”

Victor’s gaze searched his face then, eyes desperate and a little pleading. But when he found nothing but resolve in Yuuri’s expression, his face hardened again.

“I don’t care,” Victor said, his voice not quite achieving that detached coolness that he usually used in situations like this. Yuuri felt it like a lance between his ribs. “You don’t know anything about it. You could go mad, have your mind shredded to bits and then have your body follow if you’re pulled in far enough. Hell, paired with your powers the garn could slip out and tear a hole in our reality.”

“So could Graith,” Yuuri pointed out, feeling a little sick at the look on Victor’s face but refusing to give an inch.

This was what Yuuri needed. Perhaps it said something about him that people having great belief in him was more terrifying than someone believing him incapable. He was used to the hearing the latter from his own head after all.

Yuuri had come to think he needed Victor to believe in him more than he did, and he still did in a way. But this crack in Victor’s confidence made something boil in Yuuri. A sort of cold detachment that made him want to punch something just to prove he could. He supposed he couldn’t have survived the streets if he didn’t have this streak in him.

A long moment of tense silence passed, Victor and Yuuri staring each other down.

And then Victor’s face went slack, and relaxed into that blank mask he was so good at putting on.

“Fine,” Victor said, pushing up to stand. Yuuri felt a new, hotter blaze of panic then, watching Victor as he turned away to step over the bench. “I can’t talk to you like this. Do what you think is best.”

The sound of Victor’s name died in Yuuri’s throat as he opened his mouth to say it. He watched Victor leave the kitchen, his eyes wide and a dull kind of roaring in his ears.

You said, he thought then. You said you’d never let me have reason to be afraid. Don’t you be the reason I am.

Yuuri swallowed, dousing the panic as he tried to get his heartbeat back under control. His eyes felt hot, and he blinked a couple of times as he turned back to the group. They were silent, expressions of shock or grim acceptance on their faces at Victor’s abrupt departure.

“So,” Yuuri said then, turning to where Lilia still sat, the words bitten out from where he couldn’t quite unlock his jaw. “What’s the plan then?”

 

* * *

 

The heat of the rooftop garden was strange after so long in the cold. It had a wet humidity to it that was completely foreign at this time of year. The plants soaked in it, some of them uncurling their leaves to brush along the presence they sensed passing, before drawing back, judging it not to be potential food.

Victor let the warmth press in on him. Cloy his senses. He’d ditched his coat on the way up, his sweater slung over the banister of the spiral staircase leading up to the roof. Now he walked with his shirtsleeves rolled up, shedding his boots and socks as he went. He went as deep into the garden as the perimeter of the house would allow, and looked up.

An erythrina caffra tree spread its branches above him, dabbed with the vibrant red of its blossoms. Victor reached out and wrapped his hands securely around the lowest branch, before starting to climb.

His movements were fluid, the natural make of his body paired with years of training allowing him to reach the highest branches in seconds. There Victor stopped, his bare feet dangling as he looked up again. And reached out to touch the glass of ceiling, just a couple of feet above him. The blue sky beyond was rumpled by a thin layer of grey cloud.

Victor sighed and dropped his hand.

The resentment inside him was warring with a wave of guilt. He was in the right, he knew it. But he’d shut Yuuri down, walked away from him when he needed Victor. Told him he was incapable.

Victor dropped his head to his chest and gave his face a sharp rub with his palm. He was an idiot.

He still sat there for a long time though, in a tree of all places rather than seeking Yuuri out to apologise. The truth was that he couldn’t contain this fear, had never felt one quite like it. Except maybe when… but no. His childhood fears were not the same as his fear for Yuuri. This was far more potent, even if the former ended with him beaten, bloody, and alone. What’s to say this one couldn’t too? Only that lonliness would taste far more bitter now.

After perhaps three quarters of an hour, his sharp ears picked up footfalls in the garden below. Victor stilled, holding his breath even though he knew the canopy would hide him anyway.

Still the footsteps came closer, picking their way over the floor with a lightness Victor knew so well. They came to a stop at the base of the tree. And Victor glimpsed a dark head of hair through the leaves. There was a long moment of silence.

“Are you going to come down or am I going to have to come up there after you?” Yuuri’s voice called up. Victor was immensely relieved to hear that there was no anger in it. Maybe even a teasing annoyance.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Victor called back down, his eyes on the flicker of movement he could spy.

“Well then,” Yuuri said, and there was definitely a teasing lilt to his voice now. “I’ll just have to do so for the both of us.”

And moments later Yuuri climbed into view.

Victor watched, captivated by the easy grace of Yuuri’s movement. They were nimble like Victor’s, and although he was slower there was a certain grace to each raised arm, each effortless hoist of his body. By the time Yuuri had come level with him, settling on the same branch closer to the trunk, Victor was blushing a little.

Yuuri looked up, and startled at the look on his face. But then he just gave a slow blink, and turned his attention to dusting off his bark speckled feet. It was still silent by the time he’d finished, but Yuuri just turned his attention to look out over the garden. He could probably feel Victor’s gaze, but was doing a very good job of pretending he couldn’t.

“I don’t know what to say,” Victor sighed eventually, all of the breath leaving him with this admission.

Yuuri took a moment to respond, his eyes still on the garden and his posture devastatingly poised. Victor couldn’t help the slow drag of his eyes down his form.

“You could start with sorry,” Yuuri pointed out, still not looking at Victor as he spoke.

“I  _ am  _ sorry,” Victor said, trying to inject as much earnestness into his voice as possible, use it to reach across this crack between them. “I just… I’m not sorry for being afraid to send you into the garn.”

Yuuri did look at him then, startled. To have those fathomless amber eyes on him again punched some measure of relief into Victor’s stomach.

“You’re never afraid,” Yuuri whispered, and his hand twitched were it lay on the branch at his hip, as though he wanted to use it to reach out to Victor.

“Not true,” Victor said, and tentatively reached out himself to place his own hand on Yuuri’s. “I get scared all the time. Especially since you came into my life.”

Yuuri’s brow furrowed then, that adorable pout of his making an appearance.

“That doesn’t sound so good,” he said.

“It’s only because now I have something to lose,” Victor said gently, and heard the little snag in Yuuri’s breathing. “I didn’t before.”

Yuuri’s face seemed to crumble for a moment before he caught it, got his expression back under control. He flipped his hand over so he could lace his fingers with Victor’s. Victor’s heart skipped a hopeful beat.

“You had plenty to lose,” Yuuri said, still in a whisper. “You have a family here.”

“I do,” Victor conceded, a little smile making its way onto his face. “But it’s nothing compared to you. You are my everything.”

Yuuri’s eyes had gone wide. Then he blinked, and they were full of tears.

“Oh…” Victor said, also wide eyed as he watched the tears fill up and spill down Yuuri’s cheeks. “Shit.”

Yuuri let out a slightly strangled laugh at that as Victor hurried to shuffle closer to wrap his arms around him, ever amused by Victor cursing. But Victor thought it justified. He was uncomfortable with emotional people as it was, never mind crying ones. He’d only seen Yuuri cry once before, in that room in the inn. Much more common was an irritable Yuuri, or one that just detached himself from everyone around him. But Gods damn it if he wasn’t going to deal with this like he had all the other emotions.

Victor realised the comforting words that he was cooing didn’t really make sense, but as he rocked Yuuri the younger man didn’t seem to care too much. He was even laughing.

“Vitya, I’m fine,” Yuuri said, pushing him back slightly but keeping his hand as a warm presence on Victor’s chest. He gave him a bright, wet smile. “You just caught me off guard.”

“Oh,” Victor said, feeling relieved but also a little panicked. Did Yuuri not feel the same way? “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Yuuri said, still smiling as he leant forward to kiss Victor, the press of his lips the final stitch to the tear in Victor’s chest. “You’re my everything too, you know.”

The words were breathed against Victor’s lips, and for a moment he was distracted by the sensation, a shiver running through him, before his brain caught up.

“Oh,” he said again, apparently incapable of more.

Yuuri chuckled slightly and kissed him again.

“Glad that’s settled,” Yuuri murmured into it, and Victor felt a new emotion creeping in to his already wrung out state of mind. One that sizzled with a low, molten heat.

“Mm…” he hummed in return, and was just going to deepen the kiss when Yuuri sat back sharply.

Victor blinked, and leant back too, taking in the furrow of Yuuri’s brow, the taught line of his neck as he looked over his shoulder.

“Yuuri?”

“I…” Yuuri started then broke off, his eyes going wide, his jaw slack. Then he threw up his hands.

That was all the warning Victor got before the world fell apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no regrets about cliffhangers.
> 
> Link to art for this can be found [here](https://ewokthrowdown.tumblr.com/post/171531181180/but-you-yuuri-you-are-something-far-more).


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know I talked about it in the last chapter but I'm not sure if you guys remember the garn from chapter one. It's what Victor didn't like the idea of Lilia using to figure out what was going on, but she used it anyway and that's how they found Yuuri. Hm'kay.
> 
> Also remember the doku from chapter one's prologue? Yeah well hi Laet, it's been a while.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

There was ringing in Yuuri’s ears. That was all there was. His eyes were shut and the ringing was thrumming through his whole body now. Was he dead? No he could feel his arms, they were… held up, protecting his face. No more than that… protecting…

“Yuuri!” Victor’s voice brought everything screaming back and Yuuri’s eyes snapped open.

For a moment he thought he’d gone blind, the white was so intense. But as he blinked he could see it wasn’t white, but a multitude of colours flowing from his hands, bright, painfully so. A painfully bright shield flowing from him. And he could see the wharl lines in _everything._

There was a grip on his arm, shaking him.

Yuuri’s head rolled to the side where he was lying on the uneven floor of the rooftop garden — how had he got down here? — to see Victor’s worried face.

“Yuuri…” Victor said again, his eyes never leaving Yuuri’s face despite the amazing thing in Yuuri’s hands. Oh, that’s right. Victor couldn’t see the colours. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I’ve got it,” Yuuri gasped out then, surprised to find his voice like he’d forgotten he could talk in the first place. There wasn’t really much room to remember anything else but the ringing still vibrating through him. Like a struck tuning fork. Then a realisation. That wasn’t ringing. That was the wharl. Thrumming through every part of him down to the last nerve ending.

“Yes you have, my love,” Victor agreed, and something in his face crumbled in on itself. Yuuri had a momentary desire to reach out and smooth the lines from Victor’s forehead, but then realised he needed to keep his hands where they were.

Then another realisation. Of a presence. Yuuri nearly choked on it as soon as he noticed, gagged a little as the memory came back to him. Of being in the tree, of feeling… this. Toxic, poisonous, like a tumour spreading, a knife wound bleeding. How had he not felt it until that moment? Something like that couldn’t hide itself from him, even if he hadn’t sought it out and was still new to all this.

Ah… _flex._

Yuuri sat up.

Victor straightened too, kneeling at his side. Very slowly, Yuuri released his hands from their tight position, realising he didn’t really need them after all. The shield stayed up. Yuuri straightened his glasses.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri didn’t reply beyond reaching up to take the hand on his shoulder into his own. He was staring out beyond the radius of his light, of his own colours, to the edge of where they flowed to encompass more than just the two of them, but the whole rooftop. Beyond that...

The tree with its bright red blossoms was gone, the roof edge where it had stood only moments before oddly concave, the glass gone. Beyond that… nothing. The skyline of Lillenwyn — which should’ve been visible with the way cleared of plants — was gone. Yuuri was able to feel a dizzying shock in that moment, like a sick, vertigo feeling as the world realigned itself around him. He groped for a moment, through all the threads of the wharl beyond the poison, trying to tell how far it stretched, expanded, pushed everything out. There was something...

Yuuri stood. Swayed a little when he did. But Victor was there, hand still in his, other arm coming up around his waist. And Yuuri knew then, that his odd calmness wasn’t only due to shock. He had Victor’s warmth at his side. He always had and yes, he always would.

Yuuri eyed the expanse of nothing beyond the roof edge, the cracked sky with it’s blood red hue. Green in places too. A darkening bruise.

“He’s here,” Yuuri said simply.

Victor took a shuddering breath, but nodded, probably knew there was no other explanation even though he couldn’t feel the presence like Yuuri.

“But I am too,” Yuuri said next.

“Yuuri —”

“Vitya.” Yuuri turned to him, felt the power thrumming through him and oh wow. How had he ever thought he could lose control of this? It flowed through him. A mountain stream and he was the mountain. He was its end and its beginning. And it could wear him down, or bring him life. This _was_ him.

And he was Victor’s… and oh Gods, didn’t all those wharl threads look pretty running through him?

Suddenly Yuuri had more room for emotions beyond his awareness of the wharl.

He looked up at Victor, that pillar of strength before him, always stretched taught like the string of a bow poised to jump to Yuuri’s aid. Yuuri looked at him, and for a moment everything else faded as he took in the way Victor was watching him. How gorgeous he was, even without the threads of colour. And there was that heart wrenching, pleading pain etched upon that pretty face.

Yuuri reached up with his free hand and cupped Victor’s cheek. It was warm, and soft, and _real_ under his palm. It tethered Yuuri, though the whispering was still tugging him into something beyond what could be touched. There was a weird, hot wind blowing around them, sending Victor’s fringe fluttering, so only sometimes both eyes were visible, but they were always trained on Yuuri. Yuuri knew his own eyes would be nothing but white, blank canvases of wharl light.

“Vitya,” Yuuri said again, and Victor closed those startling blues, took a shuddering breath because he knew what was coming next.

“Don’t,” he begged, and that nearly broke Yuuri. It had his own heart, despite everything else going on, rise up and try to claw its way past his own intentions to get at Victor.

Could he be blamed? When in that moment there was the shake of tears in Victor’s voice which Yuuri had _never_ heard before. Yuuri Katsuki was a selfish man, he knew, and he’d damn it all for the one in front of him. But Yuuri also knew he wouldn’t even be allowed that if he walked away.

And there was screaming now, from somewhere down there, outside the epicentre.

“I’ll come back, Vitya,” Yuuri promised, stretching up to press a kiss to trembling lips that stubbornly refused to give in for a moment, as though that would prolong the inevitable, before Victor melted against him.

“No.” The moan of the word was torn from Victor’s lips as Yuuri’s left them.

Yuuri closed his eyes.

“This is why you found me,” he made himself say, let his pounding head fall forward to thunk against Victor’s shoulder. “This is what I’m supposed to do.”

Victor’s arms came up to wrap around him properly, anchoring Yuuri against him, binding them together.

“No.” And this time the word glowed with Victor’s defiance. “Not anymore. I found you because I was always supposed to. Nevermind all this other destiny stuff, Yuuri.”

And as if Yuuri’s heart wasn’t close enough to breaking as it was, Victor took his face in his hands and tilted it back so he could meet his eyes.

 _“We_ are what’s fated. _This_ is what’s meant to be. Not the fight, not you… you can’t leave me.”

The tears did come then. Filled Victor’s eyes until they were beyond beautiful. They were sparkling, _he_ was sparkling. Iridescent in his pain and his love. Yuuri had never wanted anything so badly. He took a breath.

“I know we are,” Yuuri said, felt Victor’s fingers tighten slightly in his hair in response. “But you can’t say this stuff to make me stay, I need —”

“That’s not why I’m saying it, Yuuri, I lov —”

Yuuri made a wounded noise, eyes going wide, hands flashing up to slap themselves over Victor’s mouth. Victor’s breathing was quick and hot on his fingers.

“Don’t,” Yuuri hissed, and now he glared up at Victor. “Don’t say it now. I won’t let you.”

But Victor wrenched his hands away with the strength that had always made him faster than Yuuri. Yuuri’s barrier, still circling around them, shuddered in response.

“Tough,” Victor said, glaring back at him with a pettiness that almost startled a laugh from Yuuri. “I love you, Yuuri Katsuki.”

Yuuri’s head swam. And gods he really should’ve been focusing on the whispering, gearing himself up for a fight that could tear apart everything they knew.

But no. He was standing here listening to a blue eyed, gorgeous, _stupid_ boy tell him he loved him. Yuuri didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. But his heartbeat was thundering through him like the roar of the sea. He’d always had his answer.

“Well of course I love you too,” he said, a grin finally cracking the tension between them. “You stubborn idiot.”

Victor’s eyebrows shot up, that signature smirk flashing across his face, tinged with immeasurable fondness. It was so good to see it again.

“That so?”

“Shut up, Vitya,” Yuuri said, and kissed him again.

Victor hummed against his lips, pleased and loving and free of everything around them. And Yuuri supposed this was building for the fight in their own way. Just being them. Taking their strength in this.

But yes, they did have a fight to win at the end of it all.

Yuuri broke away first, pressed a hand to Victor’s chest to stop his pursuit of Yuuri’s lips.

“You need to trust me. Get Lilia,” Yuuri instructed.

He was aware of the presence coming closer, the curious jabs of it. Teasing, amused.

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Victor retorted, rolling his eyes, expression not completely free of the ache but a little bit stronger for the things shared between them. “Even if I trust you to face him I’m not letting you do so alone.”

Yuuri shrugged, secretly pleased, secretly so very glad he didn’t have to be terrified on his own.

And then he tore himself away, turned because he couldn’t look anymore, focused instead on the shield still flowing from him. Bright, good, strong. He knew he’d thrown it up instinctively, that the house of The True wouldn’t still be here if he hadn’t. That others weren’t.

Yuuri tested it between his hands, flexed his fingers. Oh, he thought. It’s air. But of course it was, just air twisting around them, turned solid but more than that. Not just solid, but whisper resistant too. Sound proofed if you will. Yuuri laughed at the thought.

He heard Victor make a concerned noise behind him, probably worried Yuuri was cracking up. But Yuuri ignored it, looked up instead and took a step forward.

Yuuri walked away without looking back. He went to the roof edge and took in the way the glass hadn’t shattered, but just rotted away before it got to a point where Yuuri’s shield must’ve caught it. The edge of the roof was like an apple with a bite taken out of it. If that apple was mould infested. It seemed oddly spongy when Yuuri stepped onto it, crossed over from where the undamaged foliage still crunched under foot to where the rooftop melted away. Beyond that it was quite another thing altogether.

Black was Yuuri’s first impression. Cracked, pocketed earth that looked diseased as it stretched out before him. It had scarred down one side of the house of The True to stretch across where Lillenwyn once stood but now there was only this. A vast, impossible circle of scorched ground.

Yuuri had a moment to feel panic, before he spied that he could in fact make out buildings. A long, long way away. Specks in the distance.

Yuuri reached out then, for familiarity and for the change, and found threads of where it had been pushed, how it had been pushed. And could have laughed with relief.

Lillenwyn hadn’t been blasted off the map. It had simply been shoved out, the house he stood atop near its centre, what used to be their neighbours now mashed miles away from them, like a hand had swiped them out of the way. But no it was more than that. That black ground didn’t even feel like ground should. Yuuri frowned as he tasted its signature. It was twisted, beyond just its shape. The very essence was… Yuuri’s eyes widened.

To change something beyond bending its shape; a capability of the Gods. Never for mortals to permanently tamper with the very makeup of matter. And to do it like this; poisoned, tainted. Wrong, very wrong.

And at the centre of that cursed ground…

The other wharl whisperer was swathed in grey, his robes billowing as he rose up on a thread of that black soil. It fell away from his feet as soon as he stepped off it, pillars forming and then melting away as he walked forward, smiling.

Yuuri watched him approach, not calm exactly but focused in a way he had never been before. He saw the smile on the other man’s weathered face, the grey hair whipped up by the wind, the white eyes so like his own but cracked, bleeding that wharl light down his cheeks.

“Yuuri.”

The man’s voice caressed his name, turned it soft in a way it never should have been from that mouth. And Yuuri started to feel the anger, somewhere beneath the shock and the overwhelming rhythm of the wharl it pushed its way up. _Oh,_ he was furious.

“I take it you’re Graith,” Yuuri returned as the man came to a stop a few meters away from the edge of the roof.

Yuuri’s shield still flowed between them, and he saw Graith’s eyes rake over it, curious and amused. And then they flashed to where Yuuri knew Victor was still standing behind him. Yuuri’s shield shifted without him even telling it to, coalesced more firmly around Victor’s presence behind him. Graith smiled.

“I am many,” Graith said. “Graith in a past life and son of now. The beginning and the end.”

Yuuri felt a twitch at that last part, the bit that echoed his own feelings now he fully had this grip on his whispering.

“I’m just going to go with Graith,” Yuuri replied, his tone and expression blank.

Graith’s smile only widened.

“You are a thing of beauty, my child,” he said, that wizened face taking stock of Yuuri’s as Yuuri took stock of his. A high brow, long, slightly crooked nose. What could’ve been a kind mouth if it hadn’t been curved into that gash of a smile. And still those eyes with their cracked wharl light. In fact all of the wharl threads Yuuri could see running through the old man looked sort of… off. Almost like a patch job, strung back together.

“For us to be alive at the same time,” Graith went on. “It can only be the will of the divine.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows and glanced down at the black circle below them, saw shapes moving there. Dunner, prowling out on Graith’s command and the cries of which he had heard moments before. How many of them were already massacring their way through the deformed streets of the city? Yuuri could feel the lives there, could feel the movement, even louder and more hurried than the usual din of the city’s wharl as people fled in panic.

 _“They_ are the will of the Gods?” Yuuri asked, his eyes on a pale, sickly green creature that seemed to scuttle over the ground below.

Graith laughed then.

“I do not speak of the other Gods,” he replied, and Yuuri’s voice caught on the word ‘other’ before Graith’s next sentence was even spoken. “I speak of my own will. And maybe yours too, though I see you stand atop the nest of the ignorant ones.”

Yuuri’s heart was thudding rapidly. As the shock fully dissolved and the weight of the situation settled, he realised he couldn’t keep distracting Graith like this forever. The True were no doubt cutting down dunner right that moment, but they were far outnumbered. And who else would deal with this? The human authorities who had forgotten what it was to be afraid of the dark?

No. They needed a stronger arm.

_Flex._

Yuuri refocused on Graith.

“I am not divine,” Yuuri said. “I am mortal. As are you.”

Graith raised his eyebrows, and Yuuri realised why he loathed his face so much. It had nothing to do with the lightning cracks of wharl scattering out from his eyes, the obvious mark of insanity. It was because he looked so very much like all those other old men. The ones that _just kept taking._

“But I am not mortal,” Graith replied, and he took another step forward. Yuuri’s fists tightened reflexively. “You have been to the wall, Yuuri, you know my story.”

Another pillar of rotten soil spiralled up for Graith to step on, and he came forward with his robes fluttering in the hot air that still blustered around them.

“How do you know _my_ name?” Yuuri countered then, deflected because there was an expression that was an awful lot like hunger creeping onto Graith’s face.

“You’re not the only one who’s been seeking answers,” Graith said, and he was raising his hands now, palms up, welcoming.

Yuuri was very aware of Victor behind him, that now his barrier wasn’t just shielding Victor but holding him back, restraining him from joining Yuuri.

“I thought the Gods were omnipotent,” Yuuri countered, fighting the urge to take a step back. “Why do you need to seek answers?”

Graith reached for him then, across the wide stretch of space still between them. Yuuri made his disgust very evident on his face.

“Because we are the _new_ Gods, Yuuri, dear one,” Graith’s voice was a whisper then, eyes bright with longing. “You shall be the first in my pantheon, by my side in this age of ours. We shall carve out our rightful place and those halflings” — here his eyes cut briefly to Victor, catalogued, dismissed — “that carry our blood in their veins will be honoured. All else shall serve.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri said, fists tightening, stance shifting slightly. “Sounds like a dick move.”

Yuuri struck with all the might he possessed, tugged that mountain stream out of himself and let it roar forwards in a wave of screaming air, hardened to something lethal, something sharp and cutting as glass.

But the shining, multifaceted spike of it never found its home in Graith’s chest. Instead the icicle like shard broke apart, scattered into dust feet away from the man who was still smiling. Rotted, crusted shards of what was once air fluttered away and rejoined the atmosphere. But Yuuri was already moving to strike again.

Each punch that Yuuri pushed out of himself was like releasing a sob. The whispering that had always begged for escape was now trying to find its feast in the man before him. And Yuuri let it. Let it hammer away with a righteous anger that left him scrubbed raw.

But Graith wasn’t even sidestepping his attacks, just turning each of them to dust, not even attacking himself. Just watching. Curious, amused.

Then there was a shriek. Yuuri, distracted, looked up.

A silhouette, huge against the bruised sky. Wings outstretched, clawed feet pushed forward as something far too large to be the bird it resembled descended upon Yuuri.

Yuuri had the brief impression of an owl’s head, a lion’s body, the momentary awe at finding such beauty in this violent form. But then there was a scratching cry. And a flash of silver between him and the beast.

The great hulk of the creature was thrown to the side, the blur of another body thrown into it. There was a shout at the same moment Yuuri realised what had happened, but not from his own lips. Graith was screaming, staring with savage fury as Victor curled himself into the beast’s side, sword buried between its ribs. And Yuuri knew his own distraction had caused him to release his lover from his bonds. Doomed by Yuuri’s own hands.

And then Victor and the winged creature were sailing over the edge of the roof. A trail of blood like a victory flag as Victor wrenched his sword free, buried it again in the beast’s side, his shoulder collapsing as one huge wing slammed against him.

And Yuuri was already reaching out, panic like screaming in his ears as he desperately stretched to catch them with his shield. But another, darker, heavier barrier slammed his bright one aside. Caught the falling pair and engulfed them in its rotten folds.

Graith’s twisted matter, so unlike the prism of Yuuri’s colours, solidified around the pair and wrenched them apart. Black threads, like molten rock and just as hot if Victor’s screams were anything to go by, were encasing Victor’s body.

And Yuuri’s vision went white.

All Yuuri knew of the next few moments was that for one of them he was standing on the rooftop, and the next he was inches from Graith. And his whispering was a slashing, savage, _merciless_ thing that screamed over and over ‘you. shall. not. have. him.’

Graith was having to work to parry now. And Yuuri was finally able to taste not just the corruption of his whispering, but the way it moved too. Slithered. Where Yuuri’s own was water, Graith’s was more like mercury or some other slippery thing. Oiled and odd. It didn’t move right. It didn’t… _fit_ right.

And Yuuri’s eyes went wide.

Just as Graith bought a huge attack against him, not even bothering to hit out with solid matter, but going directly for Yuuri’s own wharl with a deafening whisper stroke, Yuuri dove.

His feet slipped from the black platform he’d joined Graith on, his body free falling into air. He heard Victor’s tight yell from somewhere to the side, somewhere Yuuri had wrenched him free from Graith’s hold. But Yuuri caught himself too. Buoyed himself up with a simple little manipulation for how his body existed in the air. And of course they were all tied together. That’s what Graith couldn’t see. He’d only ever tried to bend it all to his own will. He’d never let it roar through him like this. Let it overcome.

So Yuuri fell further, the sky pinwheeling above him. And he sunk with his mind too, right down into the soil Graith had poisoned and he _pulled._

Roots. Grass. Rock and riverbed. It all burst forth. Life, the garden and the grave rising up to meet him, stretching all across that expanse of black ground, bursting from it. And Yuuri laughed.

He let himself fall into the clutches of a massive tree branch that rose up to meet him, shedding soil from its back as it shook itself free. And wasn’t it beautiful? This world that the Gods or whatever power lay out there had created? Stunning. And in need of no interference. That’s why it would _let_ Yuuri interfere with it.

Just as Graith made a satisfyingly startled noise, Yuuri slammed upwards. What might’ve been a tree or just a ridiculously sized flower, hardened into something like rock, and turned into a battering ram.

Graith bought his hands up in a way Yuuri only did when he needed the extra concentration, just in time to block the plant, send it reeling back as Graith’s whispering shredded it apart. But it was already reforming along with many others. And Yuuri wasn’t even concerned.

In fact, his pinpoint focused battle mind could half turn away from the fight, to what was going on elsewhere. He twisted roots, vines and rock up over things that slithered, scuttled and pounced in their attempts to escape. The dunner were all eaten by the ground. And still Yuuri thirsted.

Because it was running free through him now. And Gods it was happy and hungry — eating, eating, eating. Overjoyed with it.

_Flex and feast._

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri was startled out of his perfect ecstacy. He turned, blinking the colours from his eyes, took stock of the vines caressing his body, supporting him midair.

And oh look, there was Victor. Suspended in a cradle of plants, a carefully woven thing Yuuri didn’t even remember making. And Victor was knelt at the edge of it, hand outstretched across the space between them. Why did he look so worried?

“Look at it, Vitya!” Yuuri yelled, was vaguely aware that Graith was getting his footing, hammering back at some of the plants and soil and rock that was attacking him. It wasn’t a huge concern.

“I know!” Victor said, and gave him a tentative smile. “You’re amazing, love!”

Yuuri laughed, rolled his shoulders and closed his eyes to bask in it. Oh this was _good._

“Can you pull it back?”

Victor’s question had his eyes snapping back open. Yuuri cocked his head to the side, confused as he looked at his lover.

“Why?” he asked, genuinely curious as plants wove their way around him, burst into bloom and then withered and died, only to restart the cycle again. Look at that. He could manipulate life and death.

“Can you?” Victor just repeated, desperate now.

He held Yuuri’s gaze for a moment longer, then he seemed to be looking around himself, searching for a way off the cradle. Yuuri frowned. If Victor wanted to reach him he should’ve just said. Yuuri would never deny him. And Yuuri wasn’t even sure he needed his own skin anymore he was so at one with it all, of course he could pull his lover to him.

Yuuri dragged Victor’s platform forward, quickly so Victor gasped and had to hold on. Yuuri grinned as he came to meet it and stepped onto the trellis.

And oh Victor was pretty as he stood up. So many colours. Yes, his wharl tasted nice. Yuuri spread his palms flat against Victor’s chest. Breathed it all in. But _no_ he did _not_ like the burn marks he could now see and feel on Victor’s body from where Graith’s dark soil had touched him, had singed through the travelling clothes he was still wearing from that morning. Yuuri frowned and tentatively touched the burnt edge of Victor’s shirt collar.

Yuuri had to let Victor know it was okay. He had to remind him how much their love could bring each other.

“I can go further,” Yuuri promised as Victor just stood there, frowning slightly as he watched Yuuri watching him. Yuuri went up on tiptoe to whisper the words against his love’s lips. “I can go right down to the core. I can feel its heartbeat. Our planet. And the stars beyond it. I can taste it _all.”_

Victor’s hands were shaking as they came up to meet Yuuri shoulders. They fastened around them with a tightness that made Yuuri emit something like a purr.

“That’s wonderful —”

“Isn’t it?” Yuuri agreed, cutting him off. “Would you like them, Vitya?”

“Would I… like them?”

Why did Victor look so unsure? Yuuri frowned. He’d have to fix it.

“The stars,” he elaborated. “Would you like me to bring them to you? You always say pretty things like that to me. Why don’t you let me give you them?”

Victor let out a shuddering breath. And Yuuri wasn’t sure he liked the feel of it, how the wharl of the air slipping from Victor’s lips trembled with something. Something… he couldn’t remember.

“I’d like you to pull it back,” Victor said calmly, bought a hand up to cup Yuuri’s cheek, stared down at him with those serious blue eyes.

Yuuri frowned.

“Why?” he asked again. Did Victor not like the things he made?

“Because I want our world back,” Victor explained. “Your one is very pretty, I think I’d like it. But it will choke this world and this is the one I met you in. Others need it too.”

Oh. And then Yuuri was aware of those other signatures again. Those terrified, fleeing ones. Huh, funny how he could taste emotions and intent as well as their physical shape and movement.

And it was that realisation that had Yuuri come thudding back.

He half collapsed against Victor’s chest, a gasp tearing itself from him.

_“Vitya…”_

“It’s okay,” Victor murmured, hands holding him steady, words breathed into his hair. “I’ve got you.”

“It was —”

But Yuuri never got to tell Victor just what the whispering had wanted. Because the next moment they were thrown from the sky.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri came to whilst they were still falling. He grabbed the thread of vicious whispering that was burrowing into him, trying to take him apart. It felt harder now, to shove it to the side. But he managed to catch it and hold it back at least, along with the one going for Victor.

And he caught them just before they hit the floor, bought them down into a soft landing.

“Yuuri!” And that was a new voice.

Yuri. The teen ran over the hillocked, sprouting ground, face bloody, hair wild and both swords drawn.

Yuri caught Yuuri as he sank to his knees.

“Vit —”

“I’m here.” Victor’s hand in his own.

But Yuuri didn’t have time to take comfort in it. Because next moment he had to catch the hammering blows that rained down on them. Whispering and solid matter together, tendrils of both stabbing from above and below in barbed points that broke against the barrier Yuuri threw up.

Then something was being shoved into his hands. And Yuuri barely had time to look down before another body hit theirs, then another. Phichit and Mila. Bloody and battered and why the _hell_ were they putting themselves directly under those ground quaking attacks?

To be at his side, Yuuri realised. All of their promises, coming into effect right in that moment.

_'You’re not alone.'_

_'Because we have the power to change it. We have you.'_

_'It’s just friend stuff.'_

_'I won’t let you have a reason to be afraid.'_

_'We are what’s fated.'  
_

_'I love you.'_

Yuuri let the sob tear itself from his chest before he even realised there were tears in his eyes.

“You’ve got this,” Phichit in his ear, his arms around him along with Yuri’s, Mila’s, Victor’s.

“I don’t know if…”

“You do,” Yuri’s voice, bitten out from where his cheek was pressed to Yuuri’s chest. Violent with devotion.

Before Yuuri could make his surprised response there was another voice. A shout. Lilia tore her way over the uneven ground towards them, skirts billowing, Yakov and Celestino behind her.

“Use it, Yuuri!” she was shouting in between words that make absolutely no sense.

And Yuuri realised that was because they weren’t of a language he knew. They were a thick, catching, guttural things. Heavy with meaning. With intent. They had a wharl signature all of their own, as if they were not just words. And Yuuri became fully aware of the thing Yuri had shoved into his hand.

It was a rock. Smooth and of a green so dark it was almost black, surprisingly heavy for its palm sized width as Yuuri brought it up to eye level. And as if all it needed was for Yuuri to acknowledge its presence, the rock started to glow. Yuuri would’ve made a surprised sound, probably would have dropped it too, if it weren’t for the way his hand seemed to be welded to the thing.

It was _sucking,_ hungry and taking like the whispering. And maybe it was this familiarity which gave Yuuri the ability to grapple with it whilst also managing to keep his shield up.

And then Lilia reached them. And she was drawing shapes in the air as she talked.

Of course she was, Yuuri thought. Blanes were the only ones who could cast runes without drawing them.

And oh shit she was casting _runes,_ and the rock was responding to them, pulling harder, rending apart the air around them.

“Lilia —” Victor’s desperate voice from beside him.

“No,” Lilia said simply, and slashed her hand down.

The gash this motion tore through the air was actually completely unsurprising, at least to Yuuri, who could taste the intent of Lilia’s words. So he let go of the rock as the air split around it, caught it up in his wharl and shoved it away from him.

The dark green stone went spinning out away from them, the air rippling in its wake. No, more than rippling. It came apart, trails of what look like a star spangled sky visible between the tears.

And Yuuri reached up, towards that evil, sordid presence above them, still hammering blows down. And pulled it.

Graith did not come easy or willing. But he, who had gone beyond the grave and come back no wiser for it, did not understand that one such as him would never be able to tame the wharl if he tried to rule it. Not like Yuuri did.

So it was almost with a gentle hand, a soft ‘hush now’, that Yuuri plucked him from his perch above them. Brought his wharl tight around that body furious with intent, spitting hate. And tossed it into the widening gap. Something that was not quite a colour beyond, but would have perhaps been purple, widened the gap to accommodate its guest.

And Yuuri rose, shook himself free of the many armed embrace of his companions, and walked forward.

Graith was caught on the edge. Clutching it, kicking and fighting tooth and nail not to be taken into the suction of the tear. But the edge of it was flaking away like peeling paint. Reality coming loose.

“What is… no… I will not go back there,” Graith spat, feverish jerks twisting him to face Yuuri.

“You’re not going back there,” Yuuri said simply, though supposedly he had no knowledge of what _there_ looked like. But of course Yuuri knew a great many things in that moment. “I think this place will rip you apart before you reach the other one. More than just physically. You’re not an echo after all. I only have the pleasure of knowing one of those and she doesn’t like you.”

Yuuri thought he heard Lilia snort behind him, and couldn’t help the momentary smile, before his face softened into something like regret.

“I know it,” he told Graith then, even as the man spat curses and twisted to free himself, his body already half disappeared into the tear. “I know the hunger and what it can do. Will you let me help you find your way back? You could repent.”

Graith looked at him then, and the wharl light had cracked all the way down to his cheeks to his chin, a poison spreading. And there was nothing but contempt in his gaze.

“You are not worthy,” he said. “None are. Gods do not repent, they rule.”

Yuuri smiled sadly, and nodded.

Then he slammed the gate closed.

He did it with Lilia’s help. She was really the one doing the heavy lifting, Yuuri just containing it, that all consuming power of the garn that had got a taste of being released and wanted more. But they managed it, gave it the body of Graith to feed on as a distraction whilst they stitched up its seams.

There was a lot of screaming. Until there wasn’t. And the tear in the air was just a dying spark before Yuuri blinked it from his vision. The dark green rock fell into the grass with a soft thump.

In the silence that followed, Yuuri suddenly took note of his breathing, how weak his knees felt, how the garden he’d created seemed to be tilting.

“Yuuri.” Victor’s voice, arms catching him.

Then nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this was a proper book this fight would've gone on for multiple chapters and had different settings and yada, yada, yada. But this is fanfiction. And Graith deserves to be in a hole. Also I'm pretty sure I changed the spelling of his name somewhere along the way during the writing of this... like from Graif to Graith... meh, such is life.
> 
> Hope you liked! It's been great hearing how much you guys were looking forward to this!


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